The Tenth Year
by Bensler
Summary: The rest of the story...behind the scenes...a.k.a. the things we wish would happen on the show...but will probably only ever happen in fan fiction. Post-eps from season ten. **********
1. Trials

**Disclaimer and all that stuff:** Ten years and they still belong only to Dick. And I just hope he does not mind if I play with them and add my own twist to his painfully EO lacking story lines. In fact, I hope he one day reads some of my stories and calls me up and asks me to be a writer on the the show! Dream, dream, dream. " ) Bensler

**Author's Chapter Notes: **This has been in progress since almost the beginning of the 2008-2009 season. I wanted to wait until it was nearly completed to post it, but if I wait until then, I may never post it. This way maybe you guys can help keep me accountable! Hope you like my takes on each show. " ) Bensler

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**The Tenth Year**

**by Bensler**

**Chapter 1 – Trials**

**Benson Residence - Wednesday, September 24th - 9:45 p.m.**

Playing repeatedly in her head, the conversations held her hostage now as surely as Lowell Harris had trapped her and held her against her will in that dank, dark, filthy, empty basement.

The conversations between her and Dr. Fulton, her therapist, were the most mind-boggling. That she, Detective Olivia Benson, would ever willingly begin seeing a shrink was just downright unbelievable. She was strong, confident, relying only on herself. She did not need anyone else to help her in any way. After years and years of recommending that victims talk to someone about their assaults it had taken her months to realize and admit that it just might be necessary for her to heed her own advice. That perhaps she did need someone else to lend a hand to pull her out of the funk she was sinking further and further into with each passing day.

She was much too worried about being seen as weak, unable to handle the stress of her job. She worried about being put on administrative leave or worse, forced to work out the remaining years of her career stuck on desk duty. It was the job that put her in the position of almost being raped, not to mention it had been her bright idea to go undercover in that prison. The thing was she had not actually _been_ raped. But the post-traumatic stress she was experiencing at having _almost _been raped was beginning to exact a incredibly heavy toll on her mentally, emotionally and now physically. She did not want to become another Caitlyn Ryan.

It had taken seeing how Caitlyn had become a virtual recluse in the aftermath of her rape; how she had lost her job, and given up her child, Christopher, to ACS in the hopes of finding a better environment for him than she could provide due to her state of mind; how she was living on the edge of reality. It had taken seeing this broken woman to make Olivia see this was her future if she did nothing.

While standing in front of the vending machine, totally spaced out, Olivia had been startled by Tonia Majeski from ACS. She was seconds from a meltdown when Tonia's voice broke through the dark haze, snatching her out of the mental and emotional prison in which Harris had trapped her as surely as he trapped her in that basement. She knew she was close to breaking. Olivia knew then she could not continue much longer without help or she _would_ become just like Caitlyn. Unable to function. To live life. And how could she continue to tell others to get help when she was too proud to seek it for herself.

She remembered sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Fulton's office. Her legs bouncing nervously, her right hand twisting the watch on her left around on her wrist over and over again, she fidgeted. Rolling her head first to one side and then the other to alleviate some of the tension knotting in her neck, she found no relief. When she could sit no longer, she paced. From one end of the small room to the other, thankful that no one else was in there.

Repeatedly raking her hands through her hair as though she could rake the memories away, she continually released loud, heavy sighs. Someone called her name and she startled, her heart jumping to her throat as the air became stuck in her lungs. Following the woman to her office, she found herself sitting on a comfortable couch, anxiously twisting and wringing her hands, leaning forward in apprehension.

Dr. Fulton was an attractive black woman about Olivia's age. She exuded warmth, friendliness and concern while maintaining her professionalism. As much as was possible, she put Olivia at ease. They talked generically for just a few minutes before Dr. Fulton got down to business.

"_Olivia, tell me what happened that you have sought my help," Dr. Fulton gently asked._

_Sighing yet again, Olivia started, "It happened four months ago. I was…um…working undercover in a prison and… and the male guard tried to rape me. And I was…I was okay at first, and then…I've started reliving it. Just feel really jumpy, can't sleep. And I fe…I feel very out of control. And the thing is, is that I wasn't even raped."_

_Dr. Fulton met her eyes, "Olivia, you were sexually assaulted."_

_Looking away and then back at her, Olivia's voice came out in a whisper, "He came so close, and there was nothing that I could do to stop him. He had a weapon. And he completely overpowered me. And I never should have let him take me down there, 'cause I know better than that." She nodded her head at Dr. Fulton, the nod letting her know that she knew the rules, she broke them and therefore, she was at fault._

"_Rape victims often blame themselves. You know how misplaced that blame is," Dr. Fulton pointed out what she knew Olivia already knew._

_Olivia agreed, "I know, I know," she put finger to her forehead, "I know that here. I've told that same thing to a lot of women. But now I… I feel… I feel like I don't deserve to be here. I feel like…I feel like he has…he stole something from me. And… and I need help dealing with it."_

The tears began then as they did now as she recounted the session alone in the privacy of her own home. She wiped at her eyes as another conversation took its place bombarding her mind with the same terror she had felt when it first took place.

_"The hole is over in C-block. What are we doing down here?" she asked nervously, the tight cuffs cutting into her skin with each movement._

_"Shut up." Captain Lowell Harris growled as he pushed her down the stairway, jerking her arms behind her, twisting her muscles and tendons. _

_"Captain, I'm sorry. I freaked because of the outbreak, I apologize." Her voice did not sound normal at all._

_"Oh, we're way past apologies now. Now shut up and do what you're told."_

_She had no doubt about what was going to happen to her and she tried to bargain with him, "No. Don't. What do you want?"_

_"What every guys wants." He grabbed her cheeks between his fingers contorting her face._

_Her voice was barely a whisper, "Oh, no, no, no, no..._

_"And you're gonna give it to me."_

_When she saw the filthy mattress lying on the floor, she nearly lost it. Begging, pleading and reasoning did nothing to stop him. So, she fought. She kicked and screamed. And screamed and screamed and… _

Then she was back in the safety of the precinct, sitting at her desk holding a glossy, eight by ten photograph of her would be rapist.

She heard his footsteps and knew who it was even before he approached her desk. Leaning over her, so close she could smell his cologne, him…he stared at the picture of Harris that Olivia was holding in her hands.

_Chewing his bottom lip nervously, his eyes never left her, "What happened in the basement?"_

_Sucking in her lower lip, she released it as she whispered, "Nothing." Her eyes remained glued to Harris' picture._

_Elliot waited for her to give him more of an explanation. She couldn't. She could not bear to tell him what had nearly happened to her because she was embarrassed that she had gotten in that situation and because she knew the anguish, it would cause him that he was not there to protect her. She knew he would find a way to blame himself and she could not deal with what happened much less his misplaced guilt and rage. _

_Barely meeting his eyes, she softly assured him, "I'm fine, El."_

She knew he needed more information. She knew that he was worried about her and it was driving him crazy not to know the details, and what he could do to help her. But he wouldn't push her. Not anymore. Not like he used to do. The thing was, she simply could not bring herself to tell him the details, because she wasn't sure how much he would actually care. There used to be no doubt about that in her mind. She worried he would feel guilty, too, but more that he would brush it off and go on with his life as he had done for the past year.

Since Eli's birth she had noticed he seemed to be more distant once again. It would push her completely over the edge if she shared this most horrible thing with him and then he acted like he had been acting…as though he did not care about her anymore. They were getting along better, but it seemed to be because of an unspoken mutual agreement to quit sharing their personal lives. For the most part, things between them had become limited to work and safe subjects like the weather, sports or headline news.

There had been glimpses of the old Elliot and the feelings that had been brewing between them for the past she was not sure how many years. Yes, the undercover situation was one. He had been beside himself that he would not be able to be there for her, to be the one watching her back, protecting her. Fin had later told her that Elliot had threatened him if he let any thing happen to her.

Elliot finding out about Kurt Moss had been another instance. She was completely unprepared when she found Elliot in Kurt's office that morning after Tucker had taken her shield and gun. Put on suspension until they investigated her link to Moss and the media leak of NFL player Lincoln Haver's homosexuality, she had gone to see Kurt. The sight of the two men in her life standing there talking…about her…made her angry as well as incensed that they felt they could discuss her situation as though she had no say. She also knew that Elliot was upset because she had never mentioned Kurt to him. Not once. She could not. She simply was not ready to acknowledge that she was trying to be with a man she could never really love because she could not be with the one man she did love.

Seeing them together also made her acknowledge to herself that she could not continue the relationship with Kurt. He was simply a substitute and poor one at that, for what or rather whom she really wanted but could not have. When he asked her again about moving in with him and she did not answer, it was clear that he realized her lack of commitment had something to do with her partner. The fact that she had not told Elliot, whom she claimed was her best friend, about them told him there were some unspoken dynamics going on between the two partners. Kurt point blank asked her if she had feelings for Elliot and she point blank denied it when she broke up with him. She had so much experience denying those emotions that it took no effort at all to continue the lie.

She had seen Elliot's old protectiveness just yesterday when he told her it was not her fault that one of Noah Sibert's rape victims had committed suicide. Elliot had begged her not to go there in her mind. He knew how her mind worked and he knew if anyone could keep her from going there, it was he. He reminded her that she always did the best job she could with what they had to work with and she was not responsible for what the victims did about their situations. They pointed them in the right direction giving them information about counseling and support groups. Some were able to handle what happened and put it in the past, others, sadly, were not.

She truly thought she was losing touch with reality. That was why she had broken down and seen a therapist. She did not want to be one of the ones who were unable to handle what life threw at them. Wiping the remaining tears from her cheek, she pulled the throw blanket closer to her chest and turned on her side. Just as she was beginning to doze, the downstairs buzzer sounded. Opening her eyes, she looked at her watch, 9:48. Groaning, she threw the cover off, swung her legs to the side of the couch and stood to make her way to the intercom.

Who would be at her place this time of the night? Casey had moved back to Texas and the only other person who had ever come over this late without an invitation was…she shook her head…no way was it Elliot. No way. He would be at home by now. With his happy little family, she thought, sarcastically. She pressed the button to speak.

"Yea?"

"Liv? It's me. Can I come up?"

No way! No way! Her mind screamed. She leaned her head against the wall by the intercom. No way was it Elliot. No way did she need to let him up. It took so long for her to answer that his voice sounded again.

"Liv? You there?"

"Uh…yea…"

"You gonna let me up or keep me standing out here in the rain?"

The sound of the buzzer and the click of the door latch releasing was his answer. Pushing the door open, he smiled to himself thankful she was letting him in. He had been worried about her for a while now, but all of his inquiries were met with dismissal and assurance that he had no need to worry about her. However, he knew his partner well enough to know nothing was further from the truth and it was his intention to find the underlying cause of it tonight. In his heart, he knew it had to do with Sealview. He had thought about getting the reports and reading about it himself, but he could not bring himself to do it. He needed to hear it from her…when she was ready.

Olivia glanced around the apartment. It was a mess. She'd had no desire to clean her apartment the last several months and now it was close to utter chaos inside. Well, it was too late to worry about that now. Besides he had all those kids and was surely used to more clutter and mess than what she had made. She was wondering if she had time to at least run a brush through her hair, when there was a soft but firm knock at her door. He must have taken the stairs three at a time she thought, crossing the room to open the door.

He was just leaning his umbrella by the wall and stood up to face her. His eyes were bluer than she had remembered them. These days she tried not to look in his eyes much anymore and definitely tried not to think about how blue, how beautiful they were. She quickly looked away now.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hey," she pulled the door further open, stepping aside for him to enter.

He shrugged out of his overcoat and hung it on one of the two empty hooks behind her door. It now hung right beside her jacket and she fleetingly wondered what it would be like to have his coats hanging next to hers all the time. She took a deep breath and chided herself for her thoughts.

"Didn't know it was raining," she said, searching for something, anything to say.

"Yea…poured earlier, but it's a steady drizzle now," he informed her, turning to face her.

It was obvious he had not been home because he was still wearing his work clothes, the brown suit, blue shirt and brown, blue and green striped tie she remembered him wearing that day. He looked good, she thought, again chiding herself for her lack of control over her renegade mind. Over this last year, she had tried to quit looking at him, too. Tried not to see the man she had been in love with for years. It only caused more pain, at times nearly unbearable.

Elliot tried not to look around too much, but he could see from the corner of his eye the apartment was in total disarray. It looked more like what _he_ had lived in when he was on his own than Olivia's usually neatly, organized home. Something told him this lack of housekeeping had everything to do with whatever was going on with her. He chose not to comment on it just now.

For the life of her, she could not think of anything else to say. She was nervous and she was not even sure why. It had been a long time since he had been to her apartment. In fact, she could only remember one time he had been there since he went back to Kathy. Since no words came to mind and she was not positive they would form a coherent sentence if she forced something, she remained silent.

Apparently, words weren't in abundance in his mind either, because he just stood there staring at her, a slight smile on his face. He took her in, her beauty. Yes, she was beautiful and the odd thing was she did not seem to know it. She always brushed aside compliments as though she were undeserving and yet, he could think of no woman more so than Olivia Benson.

She had on a bright yellow tee shirt that had 'Coney Island' stamped across it in a rainbow of colors, navy blue sweat pants with FBI in huge white letters down one leg, and white athletic socks. Seeing the sweats forced him to remember her undercover stint with the FBI. Queasiness settled in his stomach as he recalled how desperate he had been over her leaving him again without telling him. Her hair was a bit disheveled and her make-up nearly non-existent. Nevertheless, to him, she was still attractive and it would suit him fine to just stand there and stare at her forever. Suddenly realizing she was uncomfortable, he tried to think of something to say.

"Uh…you got something to drink? Water will do," he nodded toward the kitchen.

"Oh…sorry…uh…I was drinking wine…you want a glass?" she headed for the kitchen.

Wine? No, he had better pass on that given his current state of mind. It could be dangerous to mix that and his proximity to her along with alcohol.

"Uh…thanks, but water will be fine," he followed her into the kitchen.

Raising an eyebrow at him, surprised that he was opting for water over alcohol, she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. As he took it from her, their fingers brushed and their eyes shot to one another and locked, both still holding the bottle. She felt the blush rising in her cheeks and quickly let go of the bottle.

"Let's sit in the living room," she turned from him taking a deep breath to clear her mind, hoping against hope that he did not see her reddened face.

Scooping up the throw and pillow from the couch, she sat on the far end of it. Elliot debated on whether to sit on the couch or in the recliner across from her. He wanted to be close to her, to be able to read her eyes he told himself. If he chose the recliner, he would have to move a stack of books, CDs and DVDs, and his gray hoodie – he could not remember the last time he saw it - so he sat on the other end of the couch and turned toward her.

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "Why are you here, Elliot?"

Looking at her for a long moment, he smiled, "Can't a guy come to see his partner without a reason?"

"It's been nearly a year since you've been by for a specific reason and even longer just for the heck of it," the accusatory tone in her voice did not escape him.

"I guess it has been awhile…but I didn't think it had been _that_ long," he countered, looking down at his hands resting on his thighs.

"Yea…right after the accident…to see how I was doing," she reminded him.

It _had_ been a long time. He nodded his head. That was why he was here now, he thought. To see how she was doing. Really. The things he wanted to ask her about now were not going to set well with her, but there was no way around it so he took a deep breath and told her.

"Well…that's why I'm here now. To see how you are doing," he told her, giving a sideways glace to see that her defenses were immediately put in place.

Her narrowed eyes were all he needed to see to know she was not going to make this easy. "Elliot, I'm fi…"

"No. No you are _not_ fine! You _always_ say that, Liv…even when it's obvious you are anything but!" He threw up air quotes as he spat the word 'fine'. "Something is going on, Olivia, and I want to know what it is!"

She was trying to remain calm even though the anger was beginning a slow burn within her. It would take only mere seconds for him to set that anger in her to a full boiling rage, sending her out of control. And she needed to be in control, so she clung desperately to it.

"What makes you think something is going on?" she asked evenly, willing her voice to sound normal.

His laughter was mirthless, "Got a couple of hours for me to tell you? How about yesterday morning when I was telling you about my stolen credit card. You didn't hear a word I said. You've been like that for weeks…you know, spacey…out there somewhere," he waved his arms all around.

"Elliot…" her voice held a touch of warning but he did not heed it.

"You don't go out to eat with us…or with _me_…anymore. You are too tired to grab a drink. Sandwiches lay on your desk untouched, you've lost weight, you look like your worn out, tired all the time. You fell asleep at your desk last week, Olivia! You told me you didn't get much sleep night before last, and I think you aren't sleeping much at all. You've broken how many dates now? You forget things. You don't talk or laugh or smile much anymore. You're jumpy, on edge. Your place is a wreck…totally not you. And you left early today without telling me and when I asked Cragen, he said you had a doctor's appointment. You _never_ go to the doctor! Something is going on, Liv, and don't treat me like I'm a nobody that has no right to know what it is! I know you, Liv. You're my best friend! Talk to me! Please."

At some point, he had stood up and was now pacing her living room as she clutched her knees, staring at him. He stopped and brought his gaze to meet hers.

Slightly, shaking her head, she then hid her face against her knees. Elliot stood there unsure what to do, mentally kicking himself for hollering at her. That was the very last thing she needed and the very last thing he had promised himself he would not do tonight.

Taking a few steps toward her, he heard the sniffling and felt fear grip his being as he began to think he was right, "Liv…please…just tell me you aren't sick…I mean like seriously ill…please…"

That he was able to understand her muffled words was a small miracle, "I'm not sick or dying."

He was standing right in front of her now and the relief he felt at those words nearly had him falling onto the couch. He wanted to touch her but was unsure of her reaction.

"That's good to hear," he paused, listening as her sniffles continued. "Liv…I know…I know I haven't been here for you like I should have…but you gotta know I _am_ here for you…I'll _always_ be here for you even when it seems like I'm not. All you gotta do is _tell_ me you need me."

He stared at her, waiting for a response, any response. She was now slowly rocking herself as if seeking comfort on her own. Raising her tear-filled eyes to his she sucked in her lower lip, and then released it. "I…I n-n-need…you, El," she choked out around the tears in her throat.

In an instant, he was beside her, pulling her into his arms. At his touch, she began to sob, clinging to him as if she would never let him go. He smoothed her hair, caressed her face and placed gentle kisses on the top of her head. He just held her. He just let her cry it out. He would hold her until she pulled away. He would be there for her and he needed her to know he would _always_ be there for her. Through whatever trials and tribulations assailed her today or tomorrow, from her past, her present or her future, he would be there with her, beside her. As long as she wanted him, as long as she let him, he would be there.

~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~


	2. Confession

**Here's the second take...let me know what you think... " ) Bensler**

**The Tenth Year**

**by Bensler **

**Chapter 2 – Confession**

**SVU Squad Room - Wednesday, October 1**st** - 10:47 p.m.**

Hours have passed since she and Fin discovered Eric Byers. Dead. By Jake Berlin's hand. Hours since they witnessed his mother hold her son's lifeless body. Hours since Cragen had sent Elliot home. Suspended. Stripped of his gun and shield. And hours since her phone calls and text messages had gone ignored by Elliot. She knows he needs her because she needs him. This case has affected them both. Deeply. All their cases affect them; become in some way forever a part of their being; a part of who they are, what they are and how they respond to life.

But the cases with kids? Those cases dig a trench in their gut, shred their hearts and worm their way into the deepest, darkest recesses of their minds, gripping them with claws of steel forcing them to replay the images, both real and imagined, forever imprinted into their minds. These cases refuse to let them forget the depravity, debauchery, torment and pure evil visited upon these youngest, helpless victims of man's uttermost wickedness.

She thinks back upon the last two days' events.

**SVU Squad Room - Tuesday, September 30 th - 10:10 a.m.**

The overcrowded squad room is bursting with various cases that range from Greek week shenanigans to domestic abuse while Cragen tries to placate the new ADA, who is insistent that she be a part of each case. Elliot tells Olivia that there is a three year old with a suspicious fracture at the ER and the two of them are about to head out, when a teenager, Eric Byers, enters the squad room in a state of despair.

Olivia took him aside to talk with him while the others tended to the new cases and Elliot left for the hospital. The boy attempted several times to tell her what is wrong with little success. Pulling a picture from his jacket pocket and is finally able to admit to Olivia that he has unnatural desires towards his younger stepbrother, Cory Kelly.

In the nine years plus Olivia had been in the Special Victims Unit she thought she had seen and heard it all. Now she sees she was mistaken. Staring dumbstruck at the crying young man sitting in a chair by her desk, her stomach roiled as she tried to think of what to say.

The young teen was distressed over what he knows, with everything within him, is morally, ethically, and spiritually wrong. She wants to call his parents and it is then that she learns his mom remarried and his stepfather does not like him. His twisted desires for the six year old are sinister and he is filled with self-loathing and disgust. He tenderly caresses the photo of Cory as he talks about him. Olivia is sickened by what she knows is going on in his mind and tries to take the picture from him. He holds it tightly between the coil of his fists and his thumbs as tears stream down his face and he asks for help. Finally, he relinquishes it to her.

Taking the picture with her, she goes to talk to Captain Cragen. The teen wants help _before_ he does something to Corey. He realizes it is a matter of time before he can no longer control his impulses. The sad thing is there is nothing the squad can do. No crime has been committed and there is no kind of facility or program to help would-be pedophiles. Help is only for those who have committed the heinous act of child molestation.

In the course of the ensuing investigation, she and Elliot are suspicious that Eric may have become involved in looking at online child pornography. When Eric admits that he had found a website that promised to help curb his pedophilic urges, the detectives decide to investigate this "self-help" website for pedophiles. This in turn led them to its creator, Jake Berlin, who photographically stalks children and puts their pictures on his website for other pedophiles to enjoy. However, his code of 'honor' is 'look, but don't touch.' Honor among pedophiles? How noble.

Elliot's rage at Berlin is barely contained and the man takes immense pleasure in antagonizing him. He asks if Elliot is a father, and can he see pictures of his kids. When he promises not to drool, Elliot glares at him. Later, back at the precinct, the detectives are reviewing more pictures on Berlin's website, when Elliot suddenly leaves. Munch realizes too late that one of the pictures is of Elliot's daughter Elizabeth when she was much younger. Incensed, Elliot goes to Berlin's, beats the man up, and is in the process of trying to delete the picture from the computer when Olivia and Fin get there. She tells him what he is doing does not look good. He is still at the computer when Cragen and Munch arrive and Cragen orders him away from the computer, but then makes Berlin delete Elizabeth's picture.

Cragen suspends Elliot, taking his gun and shield, and telling him he almost ruined not only his own career, but that of three other officers. Berlin is threatening police brutality. Though Olivia understands Elliot's rage there is nothing she can do. Eric's stepfather has gone ballistic upon finding out what they suspect Eric of doing and is also questioned as a potential suspect in his son's abuse. Shortly after Eric is goes missing. Olivia wants to find him and stop him before any real crime is committed.

Too late she and Fin find Eric…Berlin has killed him after seeing Eric's online description of raping a young boy…not Corey, but someone else. Unknown. Eric's mother is holding him and she later tells Olivia she loved him but she would rather he be dead than live to rape little children. Olivia is horrified there was nothing they could do to help this young man before his life ended in such a tragedy.

**SVU Squad Room - Wednesday, October 1**st** - 11:47 p.m.**

The squad room is silent except for the low hum of the computers, soft footsteps in the hall from time to time, and the distant ringing of a desk phone on the night shift clerk's desk. Calling him one more time, she waits as the ringing stops and she hears his recorded voice. Again. Sighing as her shoulders slump, she leaves one more message.

"El…come on, El. Just let me know you are okay…please…call me."

She closed the phone and leaned over her desk in defeat. She wants very much to talk with him. Her partner. Not that they have done too much of that lately. Talk. She misses him and the friendship they once had. She thought they were getting it back, but something always seems to happen that knocks them off track again. Rubbing her head to try to stave off the headache that was beginning, she decided to call it a day and gathered her things to head home. It is almost midnight.

She has just logged off her computer and locked her desk drawer when she stands to leave and there he is. Elliot. He is standing not ten feet from her. He looks drained, beaten, discouraged. She wants to run to him and hug him. But they don't do that. Hug. They did once and she will never forget how it felt to have him against her. How complete she felt. How safe. How loved.

They stare at one another for what seems like an eternity but is probably only a minute or so. Neither says a word. Words really are not necessary between them though she knows tonight they will be spoken. Tonight they _need_ to be spoken. She thinks his eyes look red rimmed. She thinks he has been crying. She wants to comfort him, but is not sure how. Nearly ten years as his partner and she does not know what to do for him, except be there. She is the one to break the first silence tonight.

"I've been calling."

"I know."

"You didn't answer."

He sighed.

"I knew you'd understand."

She nodded.

"I was worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I should have let you know I was okay."

"Are you?

"What?"

"Okay?"

His blue eyes pooled with tears. He shook his head.

"No."

He is broken. She wants to fix him. That is what they _used_ to do. Fix each other. Watching him struggle with his emotions, she is dying bit by bit. His tears spill over and run down his cheeks. He does nothing to stop them, wipe them away, or hide them from her.

And she forgot.

She forgot about the things they don't do. She goes to him. Gently she wipes her thumb across one of his cheeks pulling the tears away with her hand. As he reaches up, he forgets, too, and takes her hand in his, entwining their fingers.

She pulls him to her desk where they both sit on the top, but she never loses her grip on his hand. She waits. She knows he needs to talk. It has to be on his terms. She cannot force him. Insist. This time it his turn to break the silence that has once again settled between them. Several minutes later, he sniffles, sighs and the words begin.

"A kid comes in and tells us he wants to turn himself in before he acts on these unnatural urges to sexually abuse his six year old stepbrother and we can't do a thing to help him. What kind of society can't help someone like him, Liv? A kid. He was just a kid himself."

"I know. It doesn't make any sense, Elliot. He seemed so sincere in wanting us to help him get rid of those urges."

"He was so young. A kid…not even an adult and yet he's already aware of these perverted feelings inside of him and he's battling them and he has all the telltale signs of becoming a predator but he's fighting it. _He's_ fighting it and we can't do a thing to help him. _Until_ he rapes a little kid we can't help him!"

"I've never had a perp turn himself in before he even committed a crime. I wish there was something we could have done," she held his hand in both of hers, caressing the scarred knuckles.

"Do you think it's nature or nurture…or I guess the lack of nurture…that screws people up like this?"

"I'm not sure what I believe about that, El. I mean, we all know that environment plays a big part of who we are, what we become, but I don't know if I believe you are born with certain deviant sexual predispositions. I tend to believe it is learned."

"Yea…me, too. Otherwise, I don't know how I can reconcile it to my Catholic faith. To God. I mean, I don't think He would let someone be born with those feelings, when it's so clearly wrong. I don't know, Liv. I just don't get. I don't understand how anyone could be attracted to little kids, how they could hurt them. They're so innocent. So sweet and full of life. "

"In their twisted minds I don't think they realize they are hurting them," her voice was soft and quiet.

"When I saw Lizzie's picture on that screen…I'm telling you…I wanted to kill Berlin. I could have killed him, too, except I kept thinking who would protect my kids from sickos like him if I'm locked up? Liv, he had my little girl's picture on that site for all those perverts to…to look at, drool over, fantasize over and…"

"Elliot…don't go there."

"Don't go there?" He snorted. "I've been _there_ all day and night. If I had it do over, I _would _kill him."

She looked at him and then her gaze fell to the floor, "Fin said he didn't know how you showed the restraint you did?"

"What are you talking about?

"He said if that was his kid…he would have done 'em."

"No one messes with my kids…no one should mess with _anyone's_ kids."

The silence engulfs them for the third time. Olivia's mind is spinning. She keeps seeing the lifeless body of Eric Byers, his mother covered in his blood. Tears spring to her eyes and as one spills over and starts its journey down her cheek, Elliot sees it and looks up in time to watch her wipe it away. More tears replace it.

"His mother was covered in his blood. There was blood everywhere. I couldn't do anything to save him," she runs her hand through her hair and sighs.

"Olivia, it's not your fault."

"Then _whose_ fault is it, Elliot?" she asked angrily. "He came to _us_ for help, he asked _me_ to put him in a program or something to help him get rid of those urges. I couldn't help him. I should have found a way…I should have…"

"What, Liv? What else could you have done? What could any of us have done?"

Shaking her head, she tightened her grip on Elliot's hand and brought her other hand to his once again, and traced his fingers, lost in her thoughts.

"His mother said she was glad he was dead. His _own_ mother. She said she would rather he be dead than alive to rape little boys."

"I can't imagine how she felt…to know your own flesh and blood is capable of doing something so horrific."

"Yet she loved him, El. She loved him, but she was glad he was dead. Because when she looked at him, she saw a monster…" her voice trailed off abruptly.

Nodding his head, he gave her a sideways glance and saw that she was quite preoccupied with whatever was going through her mind.

After what seemed to be an eternity of more silence, her soft voice, barely a whisper, put her thoughts in words, "Do you think that's what she saw when she looked at me?"

Instantly, Elliot knew what she was talking about, but wished it were anything but this. He tried to brush it off, tried to minimize it. He did not want her to go there.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you…" she took a deep breath. "Do you think my mother saw a monster when she looked at me, El?"

"Olivia…"

"_Did_ she? Did she see the image of the monster that raped her and left me as a reminder every time she had to look at me, see me, hear me?

"Liv…honey…don't…"

"No! Did she?" She hollered, jumping up from the desk to face him. "Is that why she couldn't ever really love me? Because she saw a…a m-mon-monster every single time she looked into my eyes?" her eyes glistened as tears formed. "_Am_ I a monster, El?"

"Olivia!" He took her by her shoulders and shook her lightly. She refused to meet his eyes.

"I didn't look like her…with her fair skin…light hair…green eyes…I'm dark…my hair, my eyes, my complexion…I look like…like _him_. That's why she hated me…" she began to sob.

"Olivia…she loved you. She was your mother. You're part of her, too. In her own way, she loved you. You are _not_ a monster. You are a beautiful, wonderful woman, kind and compassionate, loyal and loving, _worthy_ of _being_ loved…you're my best friend, Liv, and you gotta know there are lots of people in your life that love you…"

He was careful to word it so it did not sound like a confession of _his_ love…but he knew she would understand. She would make the connection.

When she began to sob, his heart broke in two.

And he forgot.

He forgot that they didn't do this. They didn't touch. Neither did they hug. He had hugged her once. After the car accident. He could still recall how she melded to him, the smell of her hair and cologne, the feel of her hands on his back. And tonight he forgot they don't hug.

He pulled her to him, wrapped his arms around her and he hugged her. Tightly. Closely. He held her and gently caressed her back and murmured soft assurances into her hair. He was glad he forgot they did not do this. Touch. It felt so natural, so right, so good. She had held his hand until his tears dried and now he would hold her and do the same for her. He held her and she held him. Slowly they began to fix each other. And slowly they began to mend.

~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~


	3. Swing

_**AUTHOR'S NOTES: Here is Swing...hope you guys like the new chapter. Please let me know. Oh...I have been SO bad about responding to your reivews...and I fully intend to...but I have had a lot going on the last month and half...I found out I had two stress fractures (presumably from walking 1 -1 and 1.2 hours at a time)...was in a removeable bootcast up to my knee for a 5 weeks. The Friday after I started wearing the boot on Monday...which was the Friday before Easter, I was at WalMart I stepped on a bead/pearl, my feet flew out from beneath me and on my way to the floor my head hit the corner of a display. So...I have staples in my head, my neck is killing me again (some of you will remember I had a neck injury last summer when someone ran a stop sign and t-boned me), I hurt between my shoulders, had big bruises on my hip and one arm hurts from the fall and the other from the tetnus shot! And I had outpatient surgery 3 weeks ago - unrelated to any of the accidents...and I am fine from that. But things have been rough, but hey, it could have been worse! At least I didn't break an arm or finger! I can still write!! " ) Bensler**_

**_****************_**

**The Tenth Year**

**by Bensler **

**Chapter 3 – Swing**

**Benson Residence – Friday, October 24 – 11:51 p.m.**

As the name on the drivers' license in the wallet left behind at the crime scene jumped out like a flame to blaze itself into Olivia's brain, it seemed as though the ground fell from beneath her. She took a deep breath to steady herself even as she pushed down the panic over how she would tell Elliot when he arrived at the scene of the breaking and entering. _And_ deal with his reaction in the after effects.

Looking up when she hears him wondering aloud why they got the case, she watches him swaggering toward her, as confident and loud and sarcastic as ever. Elliot being Elliot. Coming up to her he asked if 'spidey senses' tell her that since a naked girl was involved she somehow must have been a rape victim? Olivia wants to slap him but settles for fixing him with a serious glare and tells him she was the one who called him because the perp was his daughter.

The stricken look on his face when those words registered and he took Kathleen's license from her would be forever marked in Olivia's memory. The shock, the disappointment, the hurt he must feel tore at her insides. Elliot talked with the Fosters, the owners of the home that had been broken into, and suggested that perhaps this was only a harmless college kid prank. They are furious at his attempt to make light of the situation. More so when the man demands to know Elliot's name and badge number and realizes that the perpetrator was related to Elliot.

When Olivia and Elliot find Kathleen at a nearby park, swinging on a playground swing, it was quite obvious she had had a break with reality. Olivia's heart broke for Elliot and his second oldest daughter. She tried not to let him know she had seen his embarrassment at his daughter's state of mind. She wished she could keep him, and Kathleen, from going through any of this. She hated when this all first happened and she hated thinking about it all now.

So much had happened in the last ten days. Elliot had found out from an undercover cop on her college campus that though Kathleen was using coke and downers, she was not dealing. From her dorm roommate he found out his daughter had painted their room the week before with a wild, abstract rendering of the sun and said she wanted to be inside of it. She was also hanging with a wild crowd, different kids from her usual friends. To top things off she had apparently become quite promiscuous.

At the precinct, Olivia, deeply worried about him, had found Elliot in the crib and tried to talk to him but she doubts much, if anything, got far enough through his thick skull to make any sense let alone any difference. She had heard about what happened in court when the necklace was used as evidence against Kathleen. How she flew into a rage at Elliot and then as she is taken away she starts crying for him. According to ADA Kim Graylek, the rapid swing in her emotions was as amazing as it was frightening. Olivia also heard Kathy slapped him. She knows this is why he has slept in the crib the last several nights.

Mulling it over from the quiet of her apartment where she is tucked into one corner of her couch, she still cannot understand why Elliot never mentioned the issues with his mother. Or, for that matter, anything current about his mother. They had been partners for nearly ten years and he had never really talked about her. All this time Olivia had thought she was dead.

She knows he needs help in coming to terms with Kathleen's bi-polar disorder. He was in denial that his daughter had a mental illness. He seemed lost as he searched for explanations for her behavior, but she was not sure what to do to help her best friend. That was when she got the bright idea of meeting his mother to see if she could convince her to help Kathleen and in turn help Elliot.

That was why Elliot Stabler was standing at her door at 11:45 p.m. on a workday night. It's their weekend to catch, and she should already be in bed in case something comes up.

Looking through the security glass one more time, she saw he was still there. Maybe she hoped that he was a figment of her imagination or a dream or more likely a nightmare. Maybe if she looked one more time, he would be gone and she could go to bed and not have to deal with him right now. She had known he would confront her when he realized she had talked to his mother. From the moment she made the decision to meet with her she knew she would have to deal with him. But not now. Please. She was too tired.

She looked again. Still there. He was _not_ going away. She lightly banged her head against the wall in disbelief.

Knock, knock, knock. It came again. The insistent rapping, now in sync with the rapid beating of her heart, echoed in her ears.

"Liv? Come on. I _know_ you're home," Elliot quietly demanded.

The doorknob rattled and she pictured his face pressed into the corner between the door and the jamb as he tried to be quiet for her neighbors' sake.

"I've still got the spare key you gave me for emergencies…if you don't open up…I _will_ use it," he threatened.

"It's late. What do you want?" she hissed from her side.

"I want you to open the door and let me in."

"Elliot…go home."

"Liv…please?"

"Elliot…"

"Just for a little bit. Please."

Wondering why she was doing this, she sighed as her hands found their way to unlock the three locks and open the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, hands jammed into his jean pockets, his head tilted down. As the door opened he lifted only his twinkling blue eyes to her, and smiled with his lips together, giving the impression of a shy young boy unsure of his next move. He was dressed in ragged jeans and a white polo shirt whose tail fell below the band of his black leather jacket.

Suddenly wishing she had changed, she wrapped her arms around her waist. She was clad in gray sweat shorts; a faded, blue, long-sleeved, tee shirt; sloppy, white socks, and no make-up…ready for bed.

"It's Friday night. How'd you _know_ I was home?"

"We're scheduled to catch and besides, I've been sitting in front of your building for just over two hours. Saw you pass by the window a couple of times," he admitted.

Surprised at his candidness, she cocked an eyebrow at him, "Peeping Tom? You _do_ know I'm an SVU detective, right?"

He made a big deal of looking her up and down, and shook his head, "Charges'd never stick."

"That right?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yea…lack of evidence," he grinned and put up his arms in self-defense as she playfully swatted at him.

She rolled her eyes, stepped back and he came in and closed the door behind him.

"You _really _been sitting out there two hours?"

"Uh-huh."

"Why? Why didn't you come on up? Or call?"

"I don't know." He squinted at her and bit his lower lip. "Maybe trying to get up the courage?"

She gave him a perplexed look, "Courage? What do you mean? You know you can come to me about anything. Anytime."

He studied her for a moment. "Can I?"

"El…of course, you can. You shouldn't even have to ask."

She felt like she was reprimanding him. She was. After nearly a decade, he _should_ know better.

He nodded and looked around the apartment. It was just as messy as it had been several weeks ago when he came by after the Sibert/Ryan case.

She watched him. Something was wrong. She sensed it. He turned his gaze back to her. She could read it on his face, see it in his eyes, and hear it in his voice.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She nodded even though she knew he was lying.

He threw his hands in the air. "Everything."

She stared at him but he would not look at her. After waiting for several minutes, she spoke.

"You want something to drink?"

He blinked as though mentally changing gears, "Yea…you got…uh…coffee?"

"Umm…" she was trying to remember if she still had any from when she and Kurt were together.

"Oh…you don't drink coffee anymore…"

"I might still have some…"

"Would it be any good after a couple of years?"

"It's that not old. I had some for when Kurt…"

Realizing what she was saying, she trailed off as she looked over at him and he tried to hide it but she saw the flash of something different in his eyes. Her pulse raced as she tried to put a name to the emotions she saw in that nanosecond. Hurt, jealousy. She could not do this. She had put all of this aside when he went back to Kathy. She thought he had done the same. She _would_ not go there. Neither would she allow him to go there, nor drag her back there with him. Absolutely would not.

She ran water in the pot, poured it in the reservoir, pulled a filter from the box, put in two scoops of coffee, and hit the on button. They stood in the kitchen suddenly quiet and awkward as a thickening tension filled the air. She busied herself with getting mugs and spoons out and putting on a kettle of water to make some tea. She could feel his eyes on her with every move she made.

Turning to face him, she leaned against the counter by the stove. "How's Kathleen?" She thought back to that day and the court appearance.

At the arraignment, Kathleen had pled guilty to the lesser misdemeanor offered along with her agreement to have inpatient psychiatric treatment, take prescribed medications for her condition and return in six months for review. Elliot, fully expecting his daughter to be sent to prison, was totally caught off guard at the turn of events and had asked Olivia, 'What the heck just happened?' whereupon she answered him with 'Maybe God remembered how cute you were as a carrot.'

"We got to talk to her briefly before they took her to the facility. She's gonna be okay. She knows she's got this problem and she wants help. She can't have outside contact for three months," he ran his hands over his face.

"She _is_ going to be okay, Elliot. She's strong. She takes after her father," she said softly.

He looked at her, gave her a slight smile and nodded, "She told me what you did."

"What I did?" she smiled and tipped her head to one side. "What did I do?"

"How you stayed with her when you went with her to central booking and argued with the officers when they tried to make you wait outside. She told me what you said to her, too," he leaned against the counter across from her.

Olivia smiled now.

"She said you told her that one of these days she would look back on all of this and realize that even though this was rough to go through, it was a good thing because it would get her back on track to being the wonderful young woman you knew she was and wanted to be. You told her this was just a bump in the road and if she let it, it would make her stronger, not destroy her," he recounted as he watched her.

Olivia seemed embarrassed, as she looked away, her eyes shifting to stare at the floor. Inhaling a deep breath, she rubbed her forehead with her right hand.

"What I said is true, El. She _will_ put this behind her. And she _will_ come out of it stronger," she looked up at him with raised eyebrows.

He nodded his head in agreement. "I don't know how to thank you for being there for her. I couldn't have been. I…I wasn't. I was too angry. Too disappointed. But she needed someone with her who cared about her but could still be objective and I'm grateful it was you, Liv. Thank you."

Shifting uncomfortably, she shrugged it off and smiled. "Well, what'd you expect? Her dad is my best friend," she reached across the counter and patted his left arm.

His eyes smiled as his grin lit up his face.

They fixed their drinks and sat down at the kitchen table, she on one side he at the end to her left.

"What did you think of her?" he asked, out of the blue.

Olivia had no idea to whom he was referring, "Kathleen?"

"My mother."

"Oh…I…uh…I…" she shrugged and waved her hands to indicate she had no idea.

"And don't try to tell me you didn't talk to her. That's the only way you could have known I was a _carrot_ in the school Thanksgiving play one year." He rolled his eyes.

His smile told her he not angry about her going to his mother. She was astonished that he was so calm about her taking it upon herself to visit his mother and dig into an aspect of his personal life. An aspect he had never felt neither inclined nor that she was trustworthy enough to share it with her.

She smiled as she thought of the picture of him dressed like the carrot. He was _so_ cute. "I wasn't trying to deny it…I was just hoping you would understand."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I _was_ mad. Furious. And if I'd had the chance to talk to you when I first realized you had gone to Mother, I would have said some things I would regret probably till the day I died. But after talking with Kathleen after court, she told me you brought her Grandma to see her in jail. I saw that Mom talking to her was what made Kathleen decide to accept treatment. There was no way I couldn't be angry at you for that, Liv. And, besides, I understand you were doing what you thought was best for Kathleen. And for me," he glanced up at her as a slow smile spread across his face.

"I was, Elliot. I just wanted to do something…I felt so helpless…I needed to do something."

"You did just I needed you to do, Liv. You've _always_ done that for me. Known what I needed even when I didn't."

Smiling, she blinked tears away before they could fully form.

"So…what did you think?" Elliot turned his mug around and around on the table.

"I think your Bernie is a delightful woman, Elliot. She is funny, charming, engaging and witty. And her love and pride for you is unmistakable. Why didn't you ever mention her?"

"Bernie." He sighed and stretched in his chair. "She had all my friends call her 'Bernie'. They thought she was cool. I always wanted a regular mom…like my friends' moms. A mom my friends would call 'Mrs. Stabler'. She was so…so different…fruity, you know…I never knew what might happen or what she would say when I had friends over…I…I guess I was…I _am_ embarrassed by her."

"She _is_ different, El, but does that make her bad person or a bad mother?"

"Liv, she was irresponsible, undependable, flighty, reckless at times…and yes, sometimes that made her a bad mother."

Nodding, she paused a minute, thinking. "But…she loved you," her brown eyes were warm and twinkling. "Did you ever doubt that she did?"

The words slid over him, piercing him, drenching him with their truth. He snorted through a small smile, "No. I always knew she loved me. I never doubted her love for one second. I just…I just wanted her to be a normal mom. That's all," he admitted.

Nodding her head, Olivia felt her heart constrict with the pain she felt flowing from him. From nearly the beginning of their partnership, it seemed that each of them had the ability to feel the others pain, joy, confusion or whatever the other was experiencing.

"Normal. What the heck _is_ normal? I never realized we had this in common, El. I never realized that we both just wanted normal moms. That's all I ever wanted, too, you know. A normal mom who loved me. At least you knew your mom loved you. I never really knew that, Elliot."

"Come on, Olivia…you know better than that," he admonished.

"Do I? She was always drunk…she was selfish…it was always all about her," she seemed to become lost in thinking about the past.

Elliot reached out and now placed his hand over hers, "Serena loved you, Liv. In her own way."

The touch of his hand on hers and his deep voice brought her back to the present, "Yea? Maybe she did. You know… Bernie loves you, too…in _her_ own way. Make a new relationship with her, El. Sometimes you only get one chance. You still have that chance. My chance died on the subway stairs with my mother. Don't let your chance slip away."

Their eyes locked and they stared at one another until it became uncomfortable, each knowing the other was thinking of the lost chances between them. Looking away they both sipped from their mugs and the tension dissipated as quickly as it had formed and a new silence fell upon them. This time it was comfortable like the ones they shared long ago. Just two friends being together. Lost in their own thoughts, they sipped their coffee and tea.

Elliot had been thinking for days. About Kathleen, fearful for her future and well being; about Kathy and the wretched state of their marriage; about his mother; and about Olivia. _Always_ about her. He knew he did not act like it, but he had noticed changes in her over the last several months. Since Sealview. He still had no idea what really happened in the basement when she was undercover and sometimes he prayed that his imagination was much worse than reality. He had lost count of how many times he started to look up the court records and find out for himself. He couldn't make himself do it. Somehow it seemed like a show of distrust or betrayal if he found out any way other than from Olivia. He was certain that when she was ready, she would share it all with him. He had to respect that for whatever reason, she was not ready for him to know.

Olivia could only to imagine how Elliot must feel seeing one of his children in trouble not only with the law, but with having mental issues as well. On top of all that there was no doubt he and Kathy were not exactly getting along. Though she wanted to know more, there was no way she would ask Elliot about his marriage. Since he had gone back home when Kathy told him she was pregnant, they really did not talk about anything very personal. It was as though they understood that they had missed their chance at more and now it was unspoken that personal issues were off limits. Besides, she knew she did not need to dwell too long on his and Kathy's marital problems because her thoughts took on a mind of their own and before she knew it, she had him divorced and available once again.

Deep in her thoughts, she was startled when Elliot spoke again.

"You know…you try to raise your kids to be good, upstanding people. You hope you equip them with the tools to be successful in life…values, sense of right and wrong, people skills, education, the ability to take care of themselves. You love them, do all these things, and drill all these concepts into them and then…then you find out that whether or not they actually put all these concepts and values into play is ultimately their decision. If they choose not to…if they choose another track…the wrong track…there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing." Elliot's voice was quiet but she sensed the despondency within him.

"You're right, El. You can't make your kids make the right choices any more than your parents could make you," she took the final sip of her tea and put the mug down.

He looked up at her, "I never thought about my parents going through the same thing." He paused, pondering her words. "All their life, you control what yours kids do…when they go to bed, what they eat, movies they can see, their friends, you make sure they do their homework, practice music. You take 'em to ball practices and dance lessons and games and recitals. You make sure they see the dentist and doctor. You discipline them and love them and dream about their future. And then, suddenly, that control is taken away. You watch it swing from you to them because now they are young adults and they do what they want and you no longer have _any_ control over them. But you want your kids to be different, to learn from your mistakes, to not have to…to experience the grief of a wrong decision."

Shrugging, she tilted her head to the left, "That's just part of life. To make your own choices and decisions and to face the consequences if they turn out to be mistakes. Sometimes those consequences are short-term and not so pleasant; other times they alter your life forever. But they always change how you look at life, who you are, and what you will become. And most of the time it makes you wiser, stronger and empathetic toward others."

"Wow. Philosophical tonight, aren't we?" He slid his mug from hand to hand, watching it intently.

"Nothing wrong with that," she laughed quietly.

A short silence descended between them again. Elliot finally broke it.

"So…what choices and consequences have altered your life forever?" his voice took on a serious tone as the blue of his eyes drilled into her.

Head snapping up toward him, she thought for a moment he had read her mind as she met his intense look. She was thinking about all that time when he and Kathy were separated. Two years. Two years and she never found it in her to let him know how she felt about him. Two years worth of moments, snippets in time, opportunities that she could have said or done something to let him know the true depth of her feelings for him.

Instead, she let two years slip past and disappear like a vapor in the cold air. Now, he would never hear her tell him she loved him. Was _in _love with him. Even after Gitano when both of them were forced to face those forbidden feelings, instead of just telling him, she had danced around it, just as he had, their emotions much too strong, too raw, from nearly losing each other to their ultimate enemy…death. But then…then she had run. Away from those feelings. Away from him.

Slowly shaking her head, she gave him a sad smile, "Too many to count."

But only one that she would change. Only one, that given a chance to do over, would she amend and hope for a different outcome. If she could go back in time to that hospital waiting room, instead of letting the question 'What about me?' hang between them without validating the meaning, she would say, 'What about me? What about the fact that I love you?' And maybe then she would have never run away from him. But this was real life. There were no 'do overs' and so, she was now condemned to live with the consequences of never telling him.

His eyes narrowed as they swept across her features, "Too many to count? Or too painful to share?"

Opening her mouth to speak, she closed it again, looked away and shook her head. Raising her eyes to him again, she leaned across the table, her eyes black with remorse for things undone, words unspoken.

"We don't always get what we want in life, El," her eyes remained locked with his and she begged him to understand what she was trying to convey to him without the benefit of words.

One day, he thought to himself, he would make a new decision. A decision that would rectify the consequences of the choice he had made nearly three years ago that had altered his life in a way he had never intended. In fact, it would rectify the consequences of her decision as well. Never again, would he ever let her go…and never again would she want to run away from him.

He reached across the table covering her left hand with his right, his blue eyes serious as he understood every single thing her eyes were saying, and whispered, "One of these days, Liv…one of these days…I promise…you and I are _both_ going to get what we want. Soon."

~ ~ ~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~ ~


	4. Lunacy

**I think this is what really happened after the show was over...let me know what you think! " ) Bensler**

***************

**The Tenth Year**

**by Bensler**

**Chapter 4 – Lunacy**

**Friday, October 24**

_Lunar _– of, involving, caused by, or affecting the moon.

_Lunacy_ - intermittent insanity, formerly believed to change in intensity with the phases of the moon.

_Lunatic_ – a person afflicted with lunacy; an insane person.

Elliot's mind contemplated these terms related to the moon. Earlier in the evening, it had shone brightly down upon them as they exited the hotel. Taunting them, laughing at them. Reminding Elliot of his of long lost dreams; reminding him of the heinous act his mentor had committed.

His mentor was a murderer.

Elliot had just come from central booking where he looked on as Dick Finley, former marine, former astronaut, his former mentor and hero, was photographed, fingerprinted, processed through the system and thrown into a jail cell. He could not believe his friend had it within him to murder someone. Finley had killed astronaut Marga Janssen, her corpse found afloat in the waters of Battery Park.

His mentor was a murderer.

Unable to wrap his mind around the fact that his friend, the man he had known, idolized, trusted, and even named his son after, was guilty of murder, he shook his head. That he had killed Janssen out of envy, jealousy over her advancing career while his own waned seemed even more callous, more wicked.

His mentor was a murderer.

And his partner was to have gone on a date with him. Finley had been hitting on Olivia since he met her. When Elliot had shown up at Finley's hotel room and seen in the background the tall, slender woman with the short chestnut colored hair, leaving Finley's bed, as Finley opened the door, his heart had stopped. He knew Dick had asked Olivia out and for a split second, he thought the woman was she. It only took those few seconds for his heart to jump into his throat and his breathing to become shallow as his chest constricted with an almost insufferable pain.

The thought of Olivia with anyone, let alone someone that had been so important to him, who had ultimately betrayed him, caused pure jealousy to flow through his veins, a fact he did not even attempt to deny. He was jealous enough that Dick was taking Olivia out for dinner and more upset that she had agreed to go with him. He tried to tell himself it was just his protective side of their partnership, but he knew it was more than that. Much more.

Elliot made the woman leave and he was angered all over again that here was Finley just minutes before Olivia was to arrive engaging in a tryst with another woman. Elliot was infuriated that the man had such a shallow respect for women in general and Olivia in particular. Then to make matters worse, Dick tried to make light of things by joking about asking Olivia out.

"_Okay, okay, I'm sorry about Olivia, you know, I-I should have checked with you before asking her out to dinner. I mean…if you're not gonna make a move." Dick was all smiles and laughter as he tried to brush off Elliot's obvious anger._

"_Dinner with Olivia is off," Elliot growled in a low, menacing voice._

"_I think that should be Olivia's decision, don't you?"Finley countered._

No. No way was she going to dinner with a murderer and Elliot was going to get a full confession out of him before either of them left the hotel room.

The thought that Olivia was about to go to dinner with a murderer churned his stomach and made his blood run cold. If anything had happened to her, he would never have forgiven himself. After all, he had introduced her to Dick. When he thought back to how proud he was for her to meet his old friend, a man he had looked up to and very nearly worshipped, remorse overtook him. Here he was a seasoned detective and not only is he totally taken in by a murderer, he introduces him to his partner, thereby endangering her. The rage flew all over him again as he remembered the first thing Dick had said about Olivia as he ogled her, '_Who is this gorgeous woman?' _

Sitting on the hard, wooden bench in the hallway outside the booking area, Olivia was getting fidgety. It had been an hour and she absent-mindedly turned her watch around and around her wrist, wondering how much longer it would take. Elliot did not want her to come with them when Finley was booked. She was somewhat slighted by that but let it slide given how disconcerted he seemed. She had ridden back to the precinct with Elliot in the cruiser as he followed the squad car that held Finley. She thought back over the trip from the hotel to the precinct.

---

The ride had been silent. Twice she had asked him a question and twice it had gone unanswered. Knowing it was pointless to try to get anything out of him in his present state of mind, she consoled herself with the knowledge that eventually he would explain everything.

His hands tightly wound around the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the road ahead as the muscle in his jaw gave away the tension, anger and turmoil that enveloped him. Though she tried not to turn and look directly at him, she could still see the small trickle of blood coming from the deep cut on his right cheek. Rummaging in her purse, she could not help it any longer, finding some tissues, she leaned across the seat and gently dabbed at the blood. He winced.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered as she pulled her hand away.

Catching her hand in his, he lightly squeezed it before letting it drop. "You didn't hurt me. Just surprised me, that's all," he glanced at her quickly but then his eyes settled on the road again as his hand went back to the wheel.

"Surprised?" she asked taken aback at his disclosure. She shifted a bit, leaning into the corner of the door and seat, pulling at her dress hem that seemed much shorter than it had before as it slid up to mid thigh. Now, she searched his face, waiting for him to explain, or at least look at her again.

"Yea. I…uh…I didn't think…you still cared," his voice was gruff, thick with emotion.

"El?" she could not believe he would think that much less say it. "Where'd that come from, huh?"

"I mean, why would you? You know…care? Look…uh…I…you…things have been…well, strained between us this last year or so and…well…I ruined your date and…" he pulled into a parking space in front of the precinct and watched as the uniforms took Richard Finley out of the squad car and headed up the steps of the precinct.

"Elliot…" she felt the words she wanted to say stick in her throat.

She wanted to tell him that no matter how strained, how awkward things were or ever got between them, she would always care. Always. And that this was dinner with someone she had just met, not really a date in her mind and even if it were, he mattered much more than a date with anyone, even a famous astronaut.

He opened the door and she started to do the same. "Liv, I…I don't want you in there when they process Finley," his eyes locked with hers.

"But I…" she started to protest.

"Please…give us a minute and then come in and wait for me," he asked pleadingly.

She nodded. She had no way of knowing he simply did not want Finley to be able to see her at all much less how she had dressed up for him. Finley did not deserve that pleasure, that ego trip.

"And we'll talk later, okay. I gotta catch up with them," he nodded at the officers and Finley.

"Promise?" she asked quietly, unbuckling the seatbelt and opening the door.

He jumped out and came around to hold the door for her, "Promise."

He gave her a small smile and wished he could tell her how pretty she was in that silvery blue dress. But given that her reason for dressing up was about to be booked, he thought he should not bring attention to her attire no matter how good she looked. Maybe _especially_ because of how good she looked.

- - -

The door opened and she looked up but it was not Elliot. Disappointed, she slouched back against the hard bench, re-crossing her legs and wishing she had on jeans or slacks or at the very least a longer dress. She resumed running the last several day's events through her head, finding judgment for herself because she never even suspected Finley and normally she prided herself on being able to read people quite well. Was she slipping or was she simply enamored because a famous astronaut had asked her to dinner? Replaying their conversation, she knew she was captivated by Finley's charm and generous compliments.

"_Now, you've been my partner for what, ten years now, and you've never once told me that you know an astronaut," she playfully chided Elliot._

"_Oh, like I need the competition," Elliot had responded._

"_Well, looks like you're doing just fine to me," Finley told him as he smiled at Olivia._

Later when he asked her out, she was taken aback.

"_I would love to go. Shall I call Elliot, and see if he can join us?"she asked._

_Finley smiled, "Oh, I think you and me can handle this."_

Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought of what might have actually happened on the date. What she might have done. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall and almost at the same moment, she heard the door open again. Opening her eyes, she saw Elliot scanning the room, looking for her.

When he found her, he headed her way and she stood to meet him. This was not the Elliot she knew. This Elliot looked dazed, crushed. Standing silently for a moment he searched her face, then looked away, his right hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

"El? You okay," she lightly rested her right hand at the crook of his elbow.

Turning back to her, he took her by the arm, "Let's get out of here."

Once they settled in the car, he cranked it up and headed toward her apartment. Not ready to go home, she suggested they stop somewhere to get a drink.

Elliot shook his head, "Not tonight. If I start drinking, I'll get drunk, have to sleep in the crib, or get cab home, Kathy will be mad…and…well, it's just not a good idea right now." He also did not need alcohol in the emotional state he was in and Olivia being there, too, would be asking for trouble. The kind of trouble his wife had worried about for years.

Nodding in agreement, she leaned her head back on the headrest. She thought that would give them a chance to talk. He had promised they would, but perhaps it would be better to wait until tomorrow. Deciding to let him call the shots, she said nothing else. Fifteen minutes of silence passed and then they were pulling up in front of her building.

Elliot quickly parallel parked and shut off the engine. Staring straight ahead, he said nothing. After several more minutes of silence, she took this as her cue to leave and opened the car door as she spoke.

"Uh…I guess I'll head on up…thanks for the ride…" she reached beside her for her purse with her left hand.

It happened so fast, she did not know what to think. Reaching across her, he pulled the door shut. "Don't go," he remained leaning over her his hand on the door handle, his blue eyes darkened to midnight. "Please."

She nodded slowly and leaned back into the seat, their eyes locked. He was so close; she felt the heat from his body and her breath caught in her throat.

"Okay…" she managed to whisper weakly.

He held her gaze for a minute or so longer and then leaned back in his own seat. He scrubbed at his face with both hands and then pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a deep breath through pursed lips.

Olivia had no idea what to say. She wished something would come to her so she could make this all seem like it was no big deal, but she knew it was to Elliot. He had just lost his hero. A man he had aspired to imitate. A man he thought so worthy of adulation, that his firstborn son was the man's namesake.

Staring out the window at her building, he finally spoke. "I'm sorry, Liv. I'm so, so sorry," he turned and looked at her.

Puzzled by his apology, she responded, "This is not your fault, El. You have nothing to be sorry about."

"Yes, I do. You were meeting him for dinner…what if…Liv, if something had happened to you…I would never…"

"Well, I didn't go…and even if I had, I'm a big girl and a detective and I have a badge and the gun that goes with it. _Nothing_ would have happened, Elliot. _Nothing_. You have no reason to be sorry because none of this is your fault!"

"No…it _is_ my fault. I should…I should have known…I should have been able to tell he was…he was…not a good man…I'm…I'm a detective…and I couldn't see…I…I…" he stumbled over the words and slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "I _should_ have known, Liv!"

"How? How could have possibly known, Elliot? You haven't seen him in years. You had no idea what kind of man he had become…you were basing everything on the good man you knew him to be," she tried to make him understand.

Snorting, he shook his head, "That's just it. I let what I knew him to be, cloud my judgment. I know better than that…I know better…never assume anything. He should have been one of the first suspects!"

"If you want to go at from this angle, then I'm just as much to blame as you are. I'm a detective, too, and I didn't see it either."

"Because you trusted _me_, Olivia! But I should have seen it! I should have known!"

"El, you had no way of knowing. I know the man you idolized was a good man and…" she started.

He interrupted, "No, he wasn't, Olivia! He killed someone! He murdered a young woman!"

"I don't know what happened to Finley to change him, but I know you. You are a good man, El," she put her hand on his arm that stretched to the steering wheel. "And he had to have been a good man at one time or you would never have admired him so much. Never."

"I looked up to him…he was there for me…" his voice faltered as he spoke.

"And he was good for you then. He encouraged you to join the Marines, to get a college education, to be a man. He affirmed you, Elliot, and he was what you needed at that time in your life. That he changed, became a man you can no longer emulate, is _not_ your fault. And it's _not_ your fault that you still saw him as the man you knew him to be. It just isn't," she explained.

"I really let him down when I backed out on the NASA opportunity. That's what he had been grooming me to do," he told her.

Her eyes traveled over his face. The pain etched there stabbed at her heart. His eyes were now closed and he rested his head on the back of the seat. "Why did you back out?" she asked quietly.

Sitting up, he looked out the window once again and sighed, "Kathy was…I don't know…by that time we had Maureen and…Kathleen was on the way…I just didn't feel like it was something I could do with a young family."

"So you made the decision that was best for your family. That's what a man does, Elliot. Finley should have understood," her eyes stayed on him.

Turning to her, his laugh dripped with sarcasm, "That's just it, Liv. I wasn't a man. I wanted to go to NASA with every fiber of my being. Kathy didn't want me to go. She didn't want to leave New York City, her family and friends. She told me if I accepted the training spot, I would go alone and she would file for divorce and I'd never see my kids. I didn't want…I couldn't…lose my kids, Liv. I just couldn't. So I took the coward's way out and stayed…went to the academy instead. I'd planned to be a cop long before I met Dick Finley so it was okay…I just put my dream of space away."

Olivia was quiet as she processed what Elliot had just revealed to her. He had given up his college hockey scholarship to find a job, marry Kathy and raise their baby. One dream down in order to be a man and take responsibility for his actions. Then later, he willingly gave up yet another dream for his kids…and her. Kathy would have left him he if followed his dreams. She was having trouble digesting the fact that he had lived with Kathy's threat of leaving him and taking the kids for much longer than she had ever known. She wondered how many times and how often Kathy Stabler had played that hand over the years to control him, to keep him in line. To keep him at home. She was suddenly filled with an intense dislike for the woman who had always been jealous of her.

"You _are_ not and _were_ not a coward, Elliot Stabler. That's last thing anyone could accuse you of being. It took a real man to let go of your dreams, not once but twice, and do what you had to do to preserve your family. If anyone's a hero, El, it's you," she smiled and touched his cheek with the back of her fingers.

Though he turned away quickly and wiped at his face, she did not miss the single tear that rolled down his cheek. He scrubbed at his face again and then looked back at her.

"What would I do without you, Benson?" his voice was gruff with emotion.

Calling her by her last name was his way of putting things back on a more even keel, putting distance between them and the forbidden. They were dangerously close to the feelings they had so far managed to cover for the most part and hold at bay for most of the ten years they had been partners.

"If I have my way, you'll never have to find out," she threw back at him.

"Then I hope you get your way," his grin lit up her night.

Smiling back, she playfully punched him in the shoulder, "Goodnight, El." She opened the car door and got out.

"I'll walk you in," he got out of the car, too.

"That's okay. It's late. I'll be fine," she headed for the stoop.

"Blink your lights when you get inside," he called out, leaning across the top of the car.

She stopped and grinned over her shoulder, "You just gonna sit here all night until I do?"

"Yes, I am…and you know it."

Though this was now a familiar part of their ritual, he recalled the first time he had asked her do this. During the time Richard White was stalking her their first year as partners, the first time he realized how much he cared about her.

She smiled and ran up the steps. He watched until she disappeared into the building. Minutes later, her lights blinked and he saw her wave from the living room window.

His eyes drifted from her to the full moon shining down upon the stillness of the city. The brilliance of it now reminded him not only of his dreams of the past but also of his dreams of the future. Smiling broadly, he thought of those dreams and a certain woman that dominated those dreams. Perhaps these dreams were the embodiment of sheer lunacy, perhaps he was the lunatic for holding them, but this time - this time he was going to see his dreams to fruition.

Looking back toward her window, the curtains now drawn, he whispered, "Goodnight, Liv."

~ ~ ~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~ ~ ~


	5. Retro

**Hey, everyone. First, of all HOW about the finale!!??!! Great, huh? Second, thank you so much to all of you who read but especially those of you who let me know what you like, don't like and just how I am doing with the story! It means so much to hear from you guys! Sorry for taking so long to update. I am still running to doctors and physical therapy and working and living and I just have not felt up to being on the computer...reading or writing. But this was almost finished, so I tweaked it and decided to post it. Hope it is acceptable. Let me know." ) Bensler**

**The Tenth Year**

**by Bensler**

**Chapter 5 – Retro**

For a change, the one-six was quiet. Walking the hall from the elevator bay to the double doors of the SVU, the sound of her boots on the hard floor echoed in her head. An almost eerie hush had settled over the SVU squad room. The chairs empty, the computers off or their screen savers quietly running whether it was in the shapes of bouncing balls, multi-colored pipes or the floating NYPD emblem.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Olivia saw it was nearly midnight. 11:56 p.m. His desk was still in disarray from the day's work, his computer showing the NYPD screen saver. Earlier when she was heading out for the night, he had said he would be going home soon. She knew he had not. She knew this because his jacket was still draped over the back of his empty chair and his cell phone lay near the computer keyboard. No wonder he did not answer her calls or texts. Pressing the side button on the phone the screed appeared and showed he had four new text messages and eleven missed calls. All the text messages and more than half of the calls were from her.

They had just finished up another case. Another case that left them asking 'why?' and 'how?' Another case where people, even children, died needlessly because someone held a twisted belief about an illness. HIV/AIDS. It started when a cab driver brought a baby to the ER saying the mother left the baby in his car.

The baby, an HIV infected infant, was brought to the police by a cab driver named Marong. He said the baby was left in the cab by the mother, but when Elliot checked the cab's video camera the last person in the vehicle was a man. When questioned Marong admitted that he turned off the camera to take a fare without running the meter.

The baby's DNA was run through the system and Olivia and Elliot discovered that the baby belonged to a woman prisoner named Joanne Suarez. Their visit to her reveals she lied about having a baby because she did not want ACS to take her away. She had left her in the care of a neighbor woman who agreed to care for her. Olivia and Elliot went to the neighbor's house to find that the woman who was caring for Joanne's baby is Ida Jallow who just happens to live with Marong, the cab driver. They took them to the station for questioning.

The couple explained that they cared for the baby, but she continued to get sicker and sicker. Finally, Ida recognized the symptoms as the same as the ones that her sister had in Gambia - AIDS. They believe AIDS medicines are poison because the President of Gambia told his nation that the illness should be treated with a recipe containing bananas and other ingredients. They told the detectives that an internet search found a doctor in New York City who prescribed similar therapy.

Then they met Dr. Gideon Hutton and found Joanne Suarez's baby, Antonia, was only the beginning. There were more victims of Hutton's 'medical' treatments.

Quietly opening the door of the crib, she watched Elliot for a moment, knowing he was aware she was there. He always knew when she was near, just like she always sensed his presence. It was like a sixth sense, only much more. As partners in the field, it was a positive thing – one would zig while the other zagged – they always knew where the other was and what they were about to do and reacted completely in sync with one another. It was a tool that played a huge part in keeping them safe.

On the other hand, in their personal life that sixth sense was more of a burden. For some reason, it only served to complicate things between them. Being so close in the field, too close, as Dr. Hendrix had once put it, helped them achieve excellence in their job. It was part of why they scored were among the highest percentage of solved cases within the entire NYPD. They were used to that connection on the job, relied on it even, but in their personal relationship there were boundaries. Too many boundaries. That closeness teetered dangerously on the edge of all the restrictions created by society, by morality, by their jobs as well as those each of them had built over the years to restrain feelings neither of them could handle.

He lay on a bottom bunk, his hands clasped behind his head, his feet with socks only crossed at the ankles. His shoes sat on the floor at the end of the bed, his tie was missing, his shirt unbuttoned and untucked baring his chest and the brace for his injured ribs. Light from the hallway and the full moon cast a glow across the room providing enough light that she could even tell his eyes here open and staring at the bottom bunk above him. Making her way closer, he made no move to acknowledge her, so she silently took a seat on the bunk directly across from him. After several moments, he released a loud, heavy sigh, but still did not speak.

"How're your ribs?" her voice was quiet, yet seemed to echo in the dark room.

While reviewing Hutton's medical files of some more of his patient/victims, Olivia discovered Susan Ross, whose four year old daughter had died of AIDS, was HIV positive before giving birth to Tommy, her older son. They brought Tommy in to test for HIV, but he refused and fought them, kicking Elliot in his ribs. Hutton's lawyer appeared and informed them she is now representing Tommy and that even though he is a minor, he has the right to refuse treatment. Elliot was left with a couple broken ribs.

"A bit tender, but okay," he answered, his eyes never meeting hers.

Studying his profile, she could not help but think how handsome he was even though they were getting older. He had a strong, masculine jaw which was now covered in dark stubble. Cragen wouldn't stand for unshaven detectives, but she loved the times when she got to see Elliot with a day or two's worth of beard. She thought it made him look more handsome in a dangerous way.

"It's midnight. Been four and half hours since I left you here."

"Yea…what are you doing back?"

"You said you were going home."

"Ahh…checking up on me, huh?" Now he looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Got a wife that does that. Don't need it from you, too."

His acerbic tone and the comment made her mad, but she tried not to show it, "Well, I see you more than your wife, so that gives me some sort of rights. Besides, I called and texted you…got worried when I didn't hear from you."

Instantly his demeanor changed because he was pleased that she still cared enough about him to worry. He felt for the phone on his belt, "Must have left it on my desk."

"You did. I saw it. Do it on purpose?"

He paused before answering, "Maybe."

He smirked because she knew he had done just that and now he wondered if she knew he was not ignoring her calls, but Kathy's. He could only see half of her face bathed in moonlight and he thought she was more beautiful than ever.

Silence fell between them again. Olivia shifted and lay on the bed, her head opposite his feet so she could look at him across the short distance that divided the two beds. She could feel his eyes on her, watching, wondering what she was doing. She was not quite sure herself.

After several minutes, he asked, "You ever wonder what you would have done if that Jeff York jerk had…you know…given you the virus?"

He never did tell her he how jealous he was of the creep and upset that she never mentioned dating him. He never told her that if the guy had not already been dead, he would have killed him, if they found out he had given the virus to her.

Somewhat caught off guard by his question about a man she had dated briefly but then years later found to be gay and infected with AIDs, she took a minute to form her answer.

Sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth, she released it, "The same thing you did when you were exposed to it by Gloria Palmera's blood."

Slowly nodding, he thought back to that time. He had just left the SVU Squad room about to go home when he ran into Captain Cragen in the hallway. He tried to brush past without really talking, but Cragen stopped him.

'_Elliot ... how'd it go with the doc?'_

_He cleared his throat, 'She said the bandage probably kept most of Gloria's blood from entering the wound.' _

'_Good.'_

_He pulled out two bottles of medicine and held them up for Cragen to see, 'Just in case, she gave me a month's supply of antiretrovirals.'_

'_Then what?' Cragen asked._

'_Wait and see.'_

'_That's going to make for a hell of a month.'_

_He had smiled at his captain and started to walk away when Cragen added, 'Listen, if there's anything –'_

_Elliot had interrupted him, 'I got it covered.'_

_Cragen squeezed his shoulder, 'Well, you got my number.'_

_Elliot walked off but then stopped and turned around to face Cragen, 'Captain. Thanks.'_

The anti-retrovirals had made him sicker than he had ever felt in his whole life. He remembered Maureen's face when she asked him why he was taking them. She had found the medications and knew what they were for and was quite upset.

Olivia was deep in her own thoughts about Elliot's scare. They had only been partners a couple of years and she had seen him sick but never so sick as those drugs made him. He threw up almost constantly, yet refused to go home, refused to slow down. After weeks of this, she remembered the morning she found him in the restaurant eating breakfast. He acted surprised that she knew where to find him. Then he told her his blood tests had come back clean, and she could not stop grinning as he shoved eggs and pancakes and bacon into his mouth. Then her mind took her back to when they had the case with the murdered ADA she had dated.

'_The car's registered to a Jeffrey York, West Side address,' Elliot told her._

_His words hit her like a ton of bricks. 'Hold on. Let me see the body,' she walked to the EMTs rolling the body to the ambulance. 'He's an Assistant DA in the Bronx.'_

'_You know him?' Elliot asked._

'_I dated him,' she answered._

_Later when they were canvassing the area and looking for evidence, Elliot questioned her more about the victim._

'_Now, I don't remember you ever mentioning a Jeff York,'_

'_Five years ago, uh…I worked a case with him. It wasn't that serious.'_

'_How long did you date?' he wanted to know. _

'_About a month. Nice guy. No chemistry,' she shrugged._

_Later in the Medical Examiner's office, Warner tells them there were two men in the car, instead of the hooker they originally suspected._

'_No wonder you and Jeff didn't have any chemistry. He was gay,' Elliot remarked._

_The final kicker was when Cragen sent them to York's apartment. In their search, Elliot found AZT and they both knew that Jeff York was HIV positive or had AIDS. _

_As they left, Elliot asked her, 'You okay?"_

'_Yea, I…"_

'_If you slept with Jeff, you might want…'_

'_I'm going to get tested,'_

'_You don't want the results in departmental records, insurance, so go to an anonymous clinic, okay?'_

'_I know, like Jeff did,'_

'_Look, you want me to go with you?'_

'_No, I'll be fine.'_

_And she was. When Melinda told her she was negative, Olivia could not say a word, not even a thank you. She simply smiled and nodded her head knowing Melinda would understand. She would never forget the relief she felt at that moment._

Feeling his eyes on her, she looked over at him, her thoughts of what could have happened to her if the test had been positive replaced with worry about Elliot. He was upset about this case and she waited for him to talk to her about it.

He lifted up, propping his head in his right hand, "The thing is you and I had a choice. We knew what we were faced with and we had a choice. We made our own decisions about testing and treatment. These kids…these kids, these babies, they had no choice, Liv. Their parents made the choice for them…and I just…I just don't understand it. I don't understand how a parent can know their kid is sick like this and not do anything to help them."

"They thought they were helping them, Elliot. Because they didn't believe in the mainstream treatments, they found Hutton's way more agreeable and did what they believed was right. I don't understand it either…how you can ignore medical science and proven treatments for something as off the wall as Hutton's treatments," she had propped herself up mirroring Elliot's position.

"Yea…and speaking of science I have an especially hard time with parents using their religion to not treat their kids at all," he told her as he rubbed his forehead with the fingers of his left hand

"What do you mean?" she asked frowning.

He fell back on the bed, linking his hands together across his stomach, "After the case, Tommy thanked me for not charging him for kicking me. I asked him to do me a favor and come with me to see this kid I heard about while we were at the hospital. Kyle. He's got brain cancer. His parents are Christian Scientists who believed in prayers instead of doctors. Kyle did too until he became blind because of the tumor."

"The courts need to step in at this point. A child should never suffer needlessly or die because of their parents religious beliefs," Olivia asserted.

"I don't agree with parents being able to withhold medical treatment because of their religion or general belief in an alternative, either, but it's a fine line between making them treat the kid and taking away their right to raise their kids like they want," he told her.

"They shouldn't have any rights if the kid is going to die because of those beliefs," she snapped, rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I completely agree with you. But as a parent, I don't want the law overstepping boundaries in telling me how to raise my kids. Next thing you know they'll be telling me I can't punish them or tell them to be in at a certain time 'cause it's against their rights," he sat up now, too, leaning over so his head didn't hit the top bunk.

"That's a little extreme, Elliot. We're talking life and death here," she rolled her eyes at him.

He nodded, "Maybe. Anyway, Kyle's grandma told him that God gave us doctors and medicine and treatments to help us. He got a court order to allow him to be treated and his vision returned."

"So that's why Tommy decided to get tested for HIV," she looked up at him.

"Yea. When he told me he was positive, you know what he says to me?" he chewed on his bottom lip and looked at Olivia.

She simply shook her head.

Elliot looked away and swallowed hard. Bringing his eyes back to her the words were whispered, "He says…he says 'I don't want to die'. The kid has lost his dad, his little sister, his mom…and he says 'I don't want to die'."

Olivia sees his eyes have filled with tears, "El…"

Shaking his head, he continues, "I told him that with treatment, he has his whole life ahead of him. Was I lying to him, Liv?"

"No. Research is coming up with new and better treatments all the time. There are so many people that are HIV positive and it never turns to full-blown AIDS. You didn't lie to him, El," she encouraged him.

Elliot recalled how Hutton stated in court that HIV is a retrovirus and many retroviruses are common in the human body. He claimed no retrovirus has ever been shown to kill any human. He said that the evidence the prosecutors showed was merely propaganda to create fear that in turn would cause people with HIV to spend money on treatments that in turn provided billions of dollars in profits to the drug companies. He says that the only people that have died from HIV actually died from blood toxicity or other complications and that those people were either gay or drug addicts.

"At least Hutton is in prison for five years and lost his license to practice medicine," Olivia told him.

"But he said he'll speak what he believes to be the truth from his prison cell. There will still be people who will hear him and ascribe to his beliefs. Still be people, and innocent babies and kids who'll die because their parents believe in Gideon Hutton and his mantra," Elliot shot back.

Olivia leaned over and put her right hand on his left knee, "You're right. There will always be those who believe him and his kind, but there will also be others who will think twice, who will turn to true medical help because of this case. It has made known a doctor who completely denies the pandemic of HIV and AIDS, and by doing so has increased the public's knowledge of the effects and treatments of the disease. And maybe because of all this more people will seek treatment if they discover that they have it."

"I hope you're right, Liv." Placing his left hand over hers that still rested on his knee, he looked up at her and smiled, "You hungry?"

She smiled back, "I am. What do you have in mind?"

He began to put on his shoes, "It's 12:30 in the morning…how about breakfast at that all night diner a couple of blocks over?"

They both stood, Elliot buttoning his shirt, and smiled at each other. He motioned with his hand for her to go ahead.

"You mean Arnie's? The one with the retro décor?" she asked over her shoulder

"That the one with formica tables, chrome chairs, jukebox..." he asked as he opened and held the door for her.

"And the old-fashioned phone booths?" she stepped into the hallway.

"Yea, that's the one," he grinned, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of him just being able to share his feelings about this case with someone.

No not _someone. _Olivia. His partner. His best friend. She was the only _someone_ who mattered.

~ ~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~

8


	6. Babes

**Okay...you know the drill, right? Please read, please reivew. It really does make an author want to continue on...so come on out of lurker land and let me know who you are! And for those of you who read and are so faithful to take the few minutes to let me know what you liked...or didn't...about the chapter - THANK YOU! It takes hours and hours to write a chapter and yet only a minute or two to let an author know you like her stuff and it was worth her time to write it! But I still love ALL you guys!! " ) Bensler**

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**The Tenth Year**

**by Bensler**

**Chapter 6 – Babes**

**Stabler Residence – Thursday, November 13 – 11:19 p.m.**

Elliot had been exceptionally quiet even for him. Oblivious to Kathy's stares and the fact that Dickie and Lizzie did their best to stay out of his way, he had sat in the recliner with the television going but seeing nothing but what was in his mind. Even Eli's attempts to get his daddy's attention failed. Dickie eventually occupied Eli and later got him settled in bed while Kathy cleaned up the kitchen and helped Lizzie with an English composition. For all practical intents and purposes, it was as though he was not really at home. Nothing new about that. Kathy had complained about it for years, but most of the time these days she seemed too weary to care enough to fight about it anymore.

Now, the sound of her even breathing filled the silence as he laid in the bed beside her, thinking about the case he and Munch had caught two days ago. What an improbable setup. Four good Catholic schoolgirls bound together in a pregnancy pact. Knowing one another since they were young children they had the glamorized ideal that it will be fun to raise their babies together. Little did they know the 'fun' in store for them.

Bodies that never look the same again, dirty diapers, formula, 2:00 a.m. feedings, spit-up stains on all their clothing, incessant crying, loss of the care-free days of youth replaced by responsibility for another life, financial difficulties…they had no idea. He could tell them a thing or two about what it was like to be a parent before you really had a grip on your own life, your own dreams. A heavy sigh escaped without him thinking and he leaned over to look at the alarm clock. 11:23 p.m.

The night they got the case, Olivia had been due home the next day from a three day battered women's conference. He and Fin still clashed so when Cragen called him about the case, Elliot had called Munch. There were so many different issues to sort out. He had to chuckle to himself as he remembered he and Fin watching Munch undercover as a crazy homeless man. Elliot told him, 'You gotta admit he does crazy good.' Fin had snorted and replied 'What are you talking about? It's the same crap he spouts every day, just louder.' Munch _was_ good, but he wished Olivia had been with him. He missed his partner even though it had only been three days.

She had returned Wednesday and jumped right into the case, interviewing the girls and finding out about the pregnancy pact. When she came back from the interviews, he noticed she seemed off somehow, distracted. He wondered why, what had happened, but there was too much going on and he had never gotten a chance to pull her aside to talk. Then she had not come to work today, nor called to let him know she would be out. All Cragen would say was that she would not be in for a couple of days and put him with Fin. When they had found Fidelia Vidal hanging from that ceiling fan, Olivia's absence was even sharper. He missed her strength, her support, her steadying presence in the face of such tragedy. He _needed_ her. Elliot had called and/or texted her at least twenty times today and she had yet to return any of his messages.

Easing back the covers, he grabbed his cell phone as he rolled out of bed then headed downstairs. In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and drank several gulps of chocolate milk from the carton. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he flipped open the cell phone. There were no missed calls and no unread text messages. He checked the time again and sighed. 11: 28 p.m. Figuring she would not answer, therefore he would not wake her up, he hit #1 and listened to the ringing. Six times. She always answered him on the first or second ring unless she was ticked off at him. Or ignoring him. But he could think of nothing he had done to warrant that behavior this time. He waited for it to go to voice mail. Again. He was surprised when he at last heard her voice. Her _real_ voice.

"Uh…Benson," she mumbled, apparently wakened from a deep slumber.

Oh, man. He didn't want to wake her up. Didn't he? He was calling her late at night…what did he expect? Of course, he woke her up.

"Liv?"

There was a rustling of what he imagined were her bed sheets and then was a short pause, "Hmmm?" It came out more as a groan than a true response.

"Uh…I woke you. I…uh…I'm sorry…" he stammered.

"Catch a…a case?" she asked, her voice still heavy and somewhat unclear.

"No…uh…I…we're still working the school case," he told her, suddenly realizing it sounded more like she had been drinking than sleeping.

"Mmm…"

"I was…I just…why didn't you call me?"

"Called Cragen…"

"He wouldn't say why you were out. I was worried," his voice was stronger now.

"Elliot…"

"I'm your partner, Olivia. You _used_ to call me," he reminded her.

There was a long silence, but he heard her breath hitch and what sounded like liquid being poured into a glass before she spoke again. He was right – she was drinking – and he was certain she had taken a long swig of whatever she had poured.

"And you…you _used_ to…_talk_ to me, Elliot," her tone was scathing.

Ignoring her reprimand, he stated the obvious, "You're drinking."

"Oh…well…I'm _way_ over twenty-one, sweetheart," the sarcasm was nearly as biting as her humorless laugh.

Sweetheart? The ice was getting thin and he knew it, but barreled on anyway, "How much?"

"None of your freakin' business!" she snarled.

"Olivia. How much?" he asked, this time forcefully.

She was silent so long, he spoke again, his voice softer, "Liv…please…how much?"

The sob caught in her throat and the words came out strangled, "Not nearly enough."

"Twenty minutes," he had already slipped on his running shoes by the kitchen door and was heading for the foyer to grab his coat. "I'll be there."

"No! I…I…don't need you, Elliot! I don't! I don't need you!" she nearly screamed the words and then disconnected the call.

"Liv? Liv?" he pulled the phone away, not quite able to believe she had abruptly ended the call.

She had. Sometimes he simply could not believe the way she acted. And he hated when she acted like her mother. Olivia rarely drank more than a beer or two or a couple of glasses of wine. He could count on one hand the number of times he seen her sloshed in the ten years they had been partners. Something had happened. Something had happened and he was going to be there for her. He would be the first to admit he had not been doing a very good job of that this last year especially, but he was going to be there now. Whether she wanted him to be or not.

Cursing under his breath, he pulled on his coat, thankful that he had been sleeping in sweats, picked up his keys and quietly let himself out of the house. Once he was settled in the car, he called her again. It rang and rang and then went to voicemail. He called repeatedly until she apparently switched off the phone and he got the message saying the mobile customer was not available. He slammed the phone shut and stuffed it into his coat pocket.

**Benson Residence – Thursday, November 13 – 11:58 p.m.**

Thinking, crying, drinking, sleeping, and not necessarily in that order, had consumed the vast majority of her day and night. It started last night when she got home. After interviewing all those girls. Those pregnant girls who were so flippant about the precious lives that they had created. Mere babes themselves.

'_Yes, it was my idea. It rocks, huh? We're totally gonna be the hottest MILFs on the block,' Fidelia bragged._

'_MILFs?' Olivia repeated, dumbfounded that she sounded proud of the reputation._

'_It means mother I'd like to…' Fidelia had started to tell her._

'_Oh, I know what it means,' Olivia assured her, in total disbelief._

_Then the young girl had switched gears, leaving Olivia to flounder in her shock, 'Wanna see the stroller I picked out. It's so cute.'_

_Jumping up to follow her, Olivia grabbed her arm to stop her, 'Fidelia…you need to screw your head on straight. This is a baby we're talking about not a new shade of lipstick.'_

_Then the girl's father had stepped in and Olivia simply could not believe her and Mrs. Vidal were taking all this so well. Acting as though neither they nor their daughter held any responsibility for the pregnancy._

Putting yesterday out of her mind for a little while this morning, she was dropped into the middle of it when Mrs. Vidal had called her cell phone screaming at her that it was her fault that her daughter was dead. That she had come down on her too hard when she interviewed her yesterday. Horrified, Olivia called and got the details from Munch. Then she picked up a bottle again and this time she was determined to forget. Forget she had a role in Fidelia's death.

'_Fidelia, why don't we talk about the father of your baby, huh?'_

'_So what's your story?'_

'_Excuse me?'_

'_You have kids? You're pretty old.'_

'_We're here to talk about you.'_

'_I bet you're jealous. Old chicks are totally jealous of me. Is that it? Did you wait too long? Tick-tock…'_

Fidelia then lifted her shirt to flaunt her belly swollen with child. That this insolent young girl had managed to hone in on Olivia's weak spot - the fact that her biological clock _was_ ticking – hit her hard. It brought to the forefront her deep, long suppressed desire to be a mom and the broken heart and crushed emotions of being turned down as an adoptive parent. Once again, it hit her full in the face that she would probably never know what it was like to have a child of her own or to even raise one as her own. And it hurt. Deeply. This time the wound felt nearly fatal.

She wanted it to go away. To leave her alone. She wished she could erase the memory of those words. Hers and Fidelia's. What she would not give to have her own child, and here this young girl treated her pregnancy, her baby, like it was one more fashion accessory or the last must-have gadget. And the conversation played in her head, rewinding at the end and playing again. And again.

'_Fidelia, this is a baby we're talking about, it's not an accessory, it's not a bracelet or a pair of earrings or a slammin' pair of jeans. This is a living breathing human being you're bringing onto this earth.'_

'_You think I don't know that?'_

'_If you did you'd be petrified about your future. Do you know the odds of a teen mom finishing high school? Forget college, or any other dream you might have. Life as you know it is over. There's no going to the mall or hanging out with your friends. I mean you might see them but it'll probably be in line waiting for food stamps, or all of you going to the doctor trying to get an appointment at the free clinic.'_

'_Daddy, make her be quiet.'_

'_That's enough, detective.'_

_But she didn't stop. 'Do you know the health risks to babies of teen moms? Dyslexia, retardation, um, increased risks of blindness, cerebral palsy.'_

'_Daddy!'_

'_Don't you blame my daughter. She's just a child.'_

'_That is my point exactly.'_

She had been too hard on her. It was too much for the girl to handle. Olivia drank until she fell asleep. The ringing of her cell phone caused her to return to a semi state of consciousness, and for some unexplained reason she had answered. She had only answered one call that day and it very nearly devastated her. So why she answered now, she had no clue other than to blame the alcohol. This was why she did not drink very often and rarely got drunk. All control was lost to the vile liquid and she liked to be in control. Or at least give the perception of being so.

And now? Now she had answered the phone and it was _him_. She had ignored his calls all day and now he was on the way over. For what? To save her? She did not need him. Not now. Not when he had been unreachable, unavailable for so long. Not when he had pushed her away for the better part of year. She just wanted to fade away, but she knew he would not let her. As if on cue, the downstairs buzzer rang. It took a minute to get her balance and make her way to it. He pressed it repeatedly, knowing she did not want to let him in.

"What?" she snapped.

"Let me in."

"No. Go home."

"If you don't let me in, I'll ring your super, flash my badge, and tell him I think you're in danger."

He would and she knew it. She sighed, released the lock and went to her door to do the same.

Minutes later she heard the knocking.

"It's open," she called out as she took another long swallow of the vodka she had just poured. Even after drinking most of the day and all night, it still burned going down.

He opened the door and locked it behind him. Hands jammed in coat pockets, he stood there staring at her. She was not facing him and did not turn around to look at him. Her hair was disheveled and she had on a pale orange tee shirt and held a glass of clear liquid in her hand. Even from the distance he could tell she had on no makeup. He walked toward her and noticed the bottles on the coffee table in front of her. Two empty wine bottles, at least a dozen or so empty beer bottles, an quarter of a bottle of Tequila, an empty bottle of vodka and another one with maybe an inch of liquid in it. Must be what is in the glass, he thought.

Leaning down, he took the glass from her hand and she let him. He set it on the lamp table then knelt beside her, one hand on the cushion to her left the other on the arm of the couch, and looked up at her. Her face was streaked with tears, both dried and new ones. Her eyes were hollow and red-rimmed and puffy.

"Olivia," he whispered. "Talk to me."

At his voice so quiet, so gentle, fresh tears flowed from her eyes and her head hung to her chest as she covered her face and let go of her emotions. Then he was beside her, his right arm around her, his left offering his handkerchief. When did it become all right for her to cry like this in front of him? In front of anyone, but especially him? And when did it become all right for him to comfort her like this?

She cried for several long minutes, finally stopping as hiccups set in. Elliot went to the kitchen and brought her some Tylenol and a bottle of water.

"What's that for? I didn't know it would help hiccups," she took the capsules and water.

"It's for the massive headache you're gonna have come morning," smiling, he sat beside her again, this time a respectable distance from her.

She nodded. He waited.

Finally, she recounted the interviews to him and especially the one with Fidelia. At first she did not tell him everything the girl had said to her and he realized she was not being completely honest. But first he had to make her see the girl's death was not her fault.

"Liv…we don't think it was suicide. We think she was murdered," he told her.

"Murdered?"

He explained why and she seemed to accept that it was not her fault, after all. Something lifted, yet something heavy was still there. He decided to push.

"There's something you're not telling me. Talk to me. Please," he watched her as she bit her lower lip.

Blowing out a long shot of air through pursed lips, she ran a hand through her hair, picked up the glass of vodka and threw the remaining bit down her throat before he could stop her.

"Liv!"

"She said I was jealous of her," she spoke softly and turned her to the empty glass in her hands.

He was perplexed at this statement, but then she continued telling him of the conversation. Now he understood what had happened to throw her off center. He knew she was thinking about being turned downed as an adoptive parent and the fact that it didn't seem like having her own kid was in the cards. He really did not know what to say so he let her do most of the talking.

"Why should it be so easy for those girls to have a baby when they have nothing to offer? Why?" she looked over at him with such hurt in her eyes he knew he had to answer, to give her something to hold onto before she drowned.

"I don't know the answer to that, Liv, I…don't. What I do know is that you would be a great mother…"

"Elliot…don't patronize me…"

"Let me finish…you would be a great mother, and whether or not you ever get to become a mother to your own child or adopt one, you already are a mother to every kid you come into contact with…and," he sighed, "maybe that's not the ideal…it's not what you really want, but you still have that. Olivia, you touch the life of every kid you help. Whether it's for a few seconds, a couple of hours or a few days, you are there for them, like a mother, touching them, smiling, protecting them, giving them hope and trust and unconditional love," he looked at her and this time his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

Wiping away the now steady stream of new tears from her face, she nodded and looked away from him, unable to speak.

"Maybe that's what those girls are really looking for by having those babies…to have someone to love them unconditionally," his hands were on his knees and his head was bent down looking at the floor. "No matter what you _don't_ have in your life, Liv, you have that. Unconditional love. Okay?"

The moment had become too intense and neither would look at the other. The raw emotions palpable in the small space between them. They both knew they were on the edge of something they had pushed deep within for years. Olivia, realizing the need to lighten things, gently leaned over and bumped his shoulder with hers.

"I needed that, Stabler," she sniffed and smiled, laughing softly.

Turning his eyes toward her, he smiled back, and saw that she was exhausted.

"Listen, why don't you go get some sleep," he stood and extended his hand to her.

With no argument, she grabbed her pillow from the couch, went to her bedroom and quietly shut the door.

Elliot looked at the clock on DVR. 12:47 a.m. It was now Friday morning. He debated on calling Kathy, but did not want to wake her, and even more did not want to fight. He lay down on Olivia's couch and almost immediately found the sleep that had eluded him two hours ago.

**Benson Residence – Friday, November 14 – 6:04 a.m.**

Elliot had awakened early and for just a moment had no idea where he was. Then the night before flooded his memory and he got up and found his way to the kitchen. He put on a kettle for Olivia's tea, and surprised to find anything in the frig, made a light breakfast of scrambled eggs and buttered toast.

He had just put the bag in the mug and poured the boiling water into it, when he heard her door open and she appeared.

"Mornin', Sunshine," he grinned.

"Elliot…you didn't have to stay," she walked toward him and took the mug.

"I wanted to be sure you were okay this morning. I…uh…fixed you some breakfast. You might not want all of it…but you need to eat something," he waved his hand over the plate of food.

"Thanks," she sat down at the table and picked up a piece of toast. "And thanks for last night."

"No problem."

He sat down and ate with her, they talked and joked and laughed. It felt good.

"Headache?" he teased.

"Just a slight one. I think the Tylenol preempted it," she smiled.

"You know, I'm gonna have to leave soon…can't wear sweats to work and I didn't replace the extra set of clothes I use last week…so I gotta drive home," he dropped his napkin in the empty plate.

"El…you were telling me about Fidelia…about when you and Fin found her…"

"Yea…what about it," he face darkened just enough that she noticed.

"You okay?"

He looked at her, then down at his empty plate, and swiped his hand across his face.

"I wish you had been there."

She nodded.

"I…uh…I _needed_ you to be there, Liv," he looked up at her, those blue eyes filled with pain.

Reaching across the table to cover his hand with hers, she locked her eyes with his.

"I'm here now, Elliot,"

"I know."

He squeezed her hand and they talked some more. Now standing at her door, he shrugged into his coat."

"Thanks, Benson."

Smiling as he left, she closed the door and leaned against it.

"You're welcome, Stabler," she said, the smile still on her face.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe they were not as far off the track as it had seemed.

~ ~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~


	7. Wildlife

**Author's Note: I think this is a bit of change from some of the other post eps I've seen on this episode. I sure hope you like it and I sure hope you let me know what you think!**

" **) Bensler**

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**Chapter 7 – Wildlife**

November 18

Sight. All of his senses seemed to be on high alert. All except his sight, that is. He could not even open his eyes. The lids were heavy and unyielding to his demands to lift and allow him to view the unfamiliar surroundings. He wanted to see where he was because he knew it was not somewhere he should be. He needed to be able to see her, to know she was all right, uninjured, to know if she were still here.

Sounds. Footsteps in the hall. Rubber soles squeaking along the highly polished linoleum mingled with the sharp click of high heels, and the deep thud of boots. Voices, in whispers, quiet interspersed with crackling pages over an intercom system. Someone laughs out. Shifting, he tried to sit up. There is a loud hiss and the steady beep he hears becomes faster. Much faster. Something stirs in his foggy brain, but he cannot place the sound. Someone is talking to him. His eyes still will not cooperate. It is as though they are glued shut. The words do not make sense. He cannot process them. In the background, a television's volume is turned low and the voices followed by laughter leads him to believe something is funny. What – he has no idea. The sounds are familiar, but he cannot place them.

Taste. His mouth was dry, his lips sticking together, painfully peeling the thin, cracking skin when he opens them to run his tongue along them. His throat ached and was scratchy. Was he sick? The faint taste of hot buffalo wings and stale beer lingered in his mouth. Had he been at a bar? Was there a scuffle? Why could he not remember? The taste was not terribly bad, but neither was it good. He wanted something to drink. A new taste to erase this one. Water. Water would do. And maybe it would ease his throat.

Smells. Antibacterial soap, the sterile scent of new bandages, disinfectant. A whiff of latex as someone adjusts the tubing under his nose. Is this oxygen? Yes, he answers himself as his mind begins to climb from the murkiness that has such a grip on him. A woman's cologne. It's all wrong. The scent. It's not _her_. Her smell was on him earlier. Invading his nostrils, becoming one with his skin, the familiar smell comforting. The nurse as she fluffs the pillow and helps situate him leaves behind the slight mint of toothpaste, and a heavy, floral fragrance that is too sweet, too flowery. It makes him nauseous and he turns his head away from the smell hanging in the air around him. He wants _her_ smell to overcome this one.

Touch. Someone's deft fingers upon his arm, changing the IV. Other hands dance across his chest, changing the dressings. Pain. There is pain in his chest and his upper left arm. Why is there pain? Why is he here? The cold metal of a stethoscope as someone…a doctor…places it in various places across his chest to listen to his heartbeat. It is beating. He feels it. He is still alive. Why is he surprised to be alive? Slowly, things come back to him. Gunshots. Two. Then his breath halts as panic seizes him. Is _she_ okay? She was there. Yes. But she was okay. Right? Yes. It was later that she came. He was certain she came later. _After_ he was shot. She called his name. She touched him, stroked his head. He wanted to reach out and touch her; reassure her he was okay. He tried to speak. Words would not come. He wanted to call for her. But he could not create any coherent sound. He thought he felt her name upon his lips before the blackness stole her from him.

Her presence. He felt her. He knew she was there. He always knew when she was near.

Her voice. Husky. Thick with emotion. Breaking. Cracking.

Her cologne. Enticing. Fresh and clean. Not overpowering. Simply her.

Her touch. Warm. Causes fire to fill his veins. He is once again alive.

A soft hand grips his arm and slides down to his hand, intertwining fingers with his. He knows it is her. He does not miss the unspoken meaning of this. Two lives so enmeshed, so entangled in the other, there is no survival apart from each other. Not really. And he knows. He knows she feels the same as he does. Feelings both of them know lie just below the surface. The intensity of which frightens them both. Feelings that have, for too long, been forbidden. Are still forbidden. Yet…she said something…or was it only his imagination, his mind impaired first by pain, and then pain medication.

The fear in her voice was unmistakable, '_This is Olivia Benson, Manhattan SVU. I need a bus. Officer down.'_ Through the tears in her voice he heard her brittle tone as she called his name, barely a whisper, _'Elliot…Elliot.'_ He tried to say her name and he thinks he did but he doubts it was audible.

Vague images flit across the screen of his mind. Real or imagined, he was not certain. The violent rattling of doorknob. Someone is angry, trying to get in. Hollering. Calling a strange name. Mike? Where was he? He does not know this place. The room is unfamiliar to him. But _she_ was there, too. At his side. Like always. Yes, she had been there before the shooting. And after. The panic filling her face must have reflected what he felt at the loud voices thundering on the other side of the trembling door. He knew something was wrong. He shoved something into her hand as he pushed her toward the back of the house. To safety. A cell phone? Yes. She had given him her cell phone because someone had taken his. They…the voices…had taken his. Why, he wondered?

His mind would not stop spinning, yet he was tired. So tired. His eyes were closed and he wanted to see nothing. Remember nothing. He wanted to rest. But the images, the memories would not stop. The sound of a toilet flushing and strong arms shoving him toward the sound now confused him. She was supposed to be quiet, not draw attention to herself. That much he _did_ understand. That much he remembered. Another hard shove caused him to lose his balance and stumble across the bed.

More images assaulted his memory. Regaining his balance, he saw her coming out of the bathroom. Her blouse was gone. Only her bra and jeans remained. What in heaven's name is she doing? He had never seen her in this state of undress. Though he had imagined plenty, he was unable to truly look at her. He knew he would never be able to function normally again with her by his side if his gaze remained too long. But it was already too late. Already the image of her in the sheer, plum colored bra was permanently stamped onto the memory board of his brain. Every bit as beautiful as she was in his imaginations, he knew he would never forget the sight before him.

'_Ooh, are you ready for me, Daddy?' She is walking toward him. _

Not just toward him, _to_ him. He grins self-consciously at the men as he tries gallantly to avert his gaze, to not see her bare olive skin, to not play out the thoughts he has struggled against for years. And especially since Gitano. Since the day he finally faced the fact that he loved her. Not as his partner and his best friend. He loved her. As a woman. That day he came face to face with the knowledge that he was _in_ love with her.

Now, the heat of her body pressing against his is overwhelming. He is torn between his need to pull her into his arms and the need to stave off the danger they are apparently facing. To protect her. But her cologne…its sweet, clean fragrance is clinging to his body, filling his head…even now laying in the hospital, wounded, he catches a hint of it. He still wants to bury his head against hers until her smell becomes his, and his hers.

'_Oh, didn't know we were havin' a party… that's gonna be $100 to watch, $250 to join… each!_' _she looks over her shoulder smiling seductively at the two other men in the room._

What is that accent? And is she nuts? He wants to holler at her and shake her until she realizes the danger she has put herself in. What if they decide to take her up on the offer? What does she think they will do then? What does she think he would do? Does she think he could possibly survive if they sexually assaulted her? Or worse?

She is touching him now. They do not touch. And especially not like this. Ever. She wraps her arms under his, her hands coming up over his shoulder, caressing him. He remembers a time they did touch. A time when they stood almost just like this, their bodies melded together. Their emotions raging in turmoil. After the accident when he was so thankful to see she was not injured, he had pulled her into his arms and held her. And he never wanted to let her go then. But it was different. Then there had been layers and layers of material between them. Tonight there were no barriers. Tonight it was skin on skin.

She is wrapping her arm around his shoulder and her body is flush against him, bare skin touching bare skin. He cannot even make himself put his arm around her. To willingly touch her would be more than he deserved, and much more than he could handle. There were too many points of contact as it were. It is almost more than he can take but she is pulling him to her and rocking him back and forth as she whispers in his right ear. Be still. Please. He just wants her to be still. _What!?_ What did she say?

'Elliot, just play along…' her breath was hot in his ear. If this had been another time, another situation, if he had been a free man…

She is speaking again, the words rushed, 'In case we don't make it out of here…you gotta know…I'm in _love _you, El…I _love_ you…you hear me? I love you.' Placing a brief kiss on the side of his face, she resumed her role as the prostitute.

Now both of her arms are around his neck, _'Why so tense?'_ Her right hand is running down his chest and it feels like fire is trailing from her fingers. She just told him she was in love with him…they are in danger…she is rubbing against him…half-dressed…and she wonders why he is so tense? His mind is reeling from her words, her touch.

He said something to her, didn't he? What was it? Oh, yeah…he just wanted to get her out of there. Out of danger. He wanted her gone so he could deal with Bushido and Tybor.

Names. He remembers names. Slowly, his memory is returning.

'_Umm…not tonight,'__ he told her all the while wishing she would pull away from him or at least be still against him._

_She pulled back from him, 'Well, guess what? You still have to pay,' she chuckled softly, playing her self-imposed role to the tee._

Suddenly, he is cold. She has been ripped from his arms and he is denied the heat of her body. He watches in fear as Tybor, his gun trained on her, pulls her out of the bedroom. She looks over her shoulder just as they exit the door; he cannot see her eyes, but he knows she was looking for him to 'talk' to him. He knows this because he needs to do the same thing.

Bushido is motioning for him to follow them. Elliot watches as Olivia is alternately dragged and pushed down the hallway. He wishes there was something he could do to protect her without blowing his cover. Cover? That's it! He was undercover! _He_ is Mike. Somehow they had been drawn into the illegal wildlife trade. He wishes Tybor would not touch her. Then she is out the front door trying to put her blouse on, her jacket in hand. And he, at last, feels relief. Relief that they have believed her act and allowed her to leave unharmed. She is safe.

The feel of the hand in his is comforting and he has become aware that her thumb is rubbing a soft line up and down his thumb. He knows it is her. He feels her presence. He still cannot get his eyes to open. He wants to see her, to let her know he is okay and that he will be forever grateful that she was there for him. He tries to caress her hand, too.

"Detective Benson? There's a phone call for you at the nurse's desk," he hears a voice say quietly from the doorway. He wants to open his eyes; they flutter but remain closed.

She responded, "I'll be right there," and slowly disengaged her hand from his.

He thought he held onto hers tightly…he tried…but suddenly the warmth was gone. Her warmth. Then he felt the soft touch of her lips against his forehead. As she leaned across him, the scent of her cologne, muted by the day, drifted over him.

"El, I won't be long," she whispered.

He had to wake up. Completely. He had to _see_ her.

Finally. He does. After what seemed like an eternity later, but in reality was only a few minutes, she had returned. Her tall, lithe figure appears before him. He had finally been able to open his eyes and even managed to sit up in bed. She was at the doorway and stopped when she saw him sitting.

Relief washed over her expression and she grinned, "You're supposed to duck."

"You were supposed to leave," he retorted, grinning sheepishly at her.

"Yeah, well, when my partner hangs out with scumbags, I like to stick around and see what happens," she grinned back and he thought she blinked tears from her eyes.

The Olivia that revealed her feelings to him as she stood half dressed, her body pressed against his; the Olivia that held his head in her hands as she waited for the emergency crew; the Olivia that moments ago entwined her fingers with his when he was unconscious; the Olivia that just a short time ago kissed his forehead, is gone. And just like that they are back to the old Olivia and Elliot. Back to being partners. Best friends. Bantering back and forth. Teasing. Benson and Stabler.

With no warning, the look between them grows serious as their smiles fade away. Instantly, the air is thick with heavy emotion and silent words crashing into each other around them. Neither seems to be able to speak aloud as they stare at one another silently, yet saying so much with their eyes. The still forbidden feelings swirling around them like a vortex waiting to pick them up and suck them into its dark abyss.

The awkwardness of the moment causes her to begin to fidget, twisting her watch around and around on her wrist. She begins to shift her weight from one foot to the other. She repeatedly pokes her falling bangs behind her ear. She looks broken and he wants to put her back together. He knows she is about to bolt. To run as she always does when things get too intense, too emotional, too complicated between them.

He beats her to the punch and motions for her to come to him and then pats the bed beside him. Her mouth falls open, her eyes widen in disbelief, her left eyebrow arching quizzically, but she does not protest. Instead, she takes a step toward him; then another and another until she is at his beside. Still fidgeting, still silent, she stands self-consciously before him.

She makes no move to sit, so he reaches up to grasp her left wrist and pulls her down to his side. He does not release her hand and this time he is the one that winds his fingers around hers. He looks at their joined hands. Her long, slender, slightly tanned fingers, soft against his larger, thicker fingers, roughened and scarred from years of fighting perps and lockers, feels right. It feels right and he thinks he could do this forever. He could sit here and just hold her hand and be satisfied that she was here. At his side. With him.

Slowly he lifts his eyes to her and sees she is staring at their hands, too. He is struck that she seems mesmerized by such a simple act. She is aware that he is staring at her, but she does not look at him. He is content to feel her hand in his and to watch her face as conflicting emotions run across her features.

When she finally speaks, her voice is so soft he has to strain to hear her. "We don't do this, El," she whispered.

"What?" he asks though he knows what she is talking about and grips her hand tighter as he places his other hand on top of them. "What don't we do?"

"This," she raises her eyes to meet his and they are brimming with tears.

"Why is that, Liv? Why is it that we keep avoiding this?" he did not know what he was doing. Why he was saying these things; encouraging the discussion of these forbidden subjects when he was still with Kathy? When he had a one year old and four other kids.

"Elliot, don't. We…we… c-can't do this," she tried to pull her hand from his, but he held tight.

He managed to pull her down to him so they were face to face, her brown eyes huge, terror filled as he searched them to know he was not imagining what he heard earlier, "Liv…you told me something in that house. You told me that…"

She turned away from him, trying once again to get away. Desperate to get away. "Elliot, please…please," she begged.

"No," he hissed. "I _know_ what you said, Olivia. And I want you to know that I…" his voice was deep and ragged and tore at her heart.

"Don't say it, Elliot. It serves no purpose," now she looked him boldly in the face.

"No purpose?" his face crumpled into a mixture of incredulity, hurt and anger. "Then why? Why did you say it?"

She bit her lower lip and sighed. "Because it's the truth. Elliot…I told you that because…because…I really d-didn't think we were going to get out of there alive…and I…I…wanted you to hear me say it before it was too late," she whispered as her eyes burned into his.

"Then why can't I say it to you? It's true, you know. It's been true for years, Liv, I do," his eyes now watered and a tear tickled his cheek but he would not release her to wipe at it.

"I know…I know you do and it tears my heart out, Elliot. If I heard you say it aloud…it would…would only hurt that much more. So, please…don't," she struggled to maintain a steady voice, but when she looked back at him and saw the tears flowing down his face, she lost it.

The tears now streamed down her face as well and he had to say something. "Liv, you mean everything to me…"

"Elliot…" she warned. "You're married. Okay? You're married and you don't say these things other women."

She was right. He knew she was right. He had gone back to Kathy because she was pregnant. Now he stayed with her because of Eli. They still fought. All the time. About his job, the hours he put in, the family time he missed. The fiasco with Kathleen had nearly busted them up again. Kathy still had not forgiven him for he had done.

He was miserable and so was Kathy and they made everyone around them miserable, but they stuck to their vows. No matter how wretched their marriage, they kept their vows. He knew he had to give it his best shot. And he would. But he knew they would not last. It was a matter of time before she would leave him again. Or maybe…maybe this time he would have the courage to be the one to say it was not working. To be the one to leave. Maybe now Olivia's words would provide the courage he needed to make a decision.

"There's only _one_ woman I want to say it to, Olivia," he corrected.

"Elliot…please," she begged.

"Okay…okay…but if you won't let me _tell_ you how I feel, can I at least _show_ you?" he asked quietly.

Bewildered at his request, she stared mutely at him.

"Can I hold you? Just for a little while?" he pleaded softly.

The look on his face was irresistible and against her better judgment, she nodded her head ever so slightly. He released her enough to put his arm around her shoulder and pull her down to him.

His eyes closed as he felt her settled onto the bed and mold her body to his. He wound his hands through her hair and buried his face in the soft, brown silk and inhaled the sweetness of her. Her hand was warm as it worked its way between the pillow and his neck, her fingers lightly caressing the knots, her fingers strong yet gentle. Her right hand cupped his left cheek and he slid one of his hands from her hair to cover it.

With her in his arms, he relaxed. He was more content to hold Olivia than he thought he had ever been in his entire life.

Pure and simple, he loved this woman. And one day…one day he was going to tell her that she meant everything to him. That she was his air and water and blood. That he loved her, was in love with her.

One day, he swore to himself, he was going to tell her, 'I love you, Liv.'

And she was going to let him.

~ ~ ~ eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~


	8. Chapter 8

******Author's Note: ****OKAY...I was going to write all these in order but I just HAD to jump ahead and write my take on the Season Finale - Zebras ****Right now it is chapter 8, but eventually will be Chapter (22) when I get all the others done.**

******The finale was awesome...except for that disgusting kiss!! Anyway, hope you like my twist and let me know what you think. Sure wish Neal would get back on Twitter and let us know 'who's coming back to SVU?' ****" ) Bensler**

**P.S. NOW we know!! Mariska & Chris are back for two more years (yes, of course, NBC will pick up the show for that second year)!! AND this give TPTB plenty of time to work out the EO ending that I just know is in there somewhere!! Besides fanfic! ") **

******************

**The Tenth Year **

**Chapter 22 – Zebras**

**Calvary Cemetary – Queens, New York – Friday, June 5 – 10:14 a.m.**

It was raining. A sea of umbrellas covered the crowd of people huddled closely together in an unconscious attempt to form a solid barrier between them and the downpour from the cloudy skies. Their faces solemn, some streaked in tears, some wiping at red-rimmed eyes with tissues or handkerchiefs, they stood cloaked in their garb of dark, muted, depressing colors. Friends and family. Colleagues and co-workers. Curiosity seekers. And reporters. It was big news. NYPD had once again lost 'one of New York's finest'.

After the Requiem Mass, they had followed the coffin on the winding trail to the cemetery slightly uphill from the church, through the sludge that covered the path. Olivia knew a good deal about Catholic rituals from Elliot because he had been devoted to his faith. Though he never pushed it on her, he did from time to time throw a word in about God and faith, prayer and Heaven and Hell. And on occasion she had asked him about various concepts. Still she found all the rituals a bit archaic.

"O God, by Your mercy rest is given to the souls of the faithful…" the priest spoke reverently.

The words and sounds faded from her hearing, leaving her with her thoughts and guilt.

Elliot.

Would she ever stop thinking about him? About that day? About this day as she stood at the edge of the newly dug grave, the coffin poised to be lowered into the ground? Would she ever be able to forgive herself?

Elliot.

The water dripped from around the edges of the umbrella the man next to her held in place over them and he edged closer, his arm lightly pulling her to him to keep her dry. Olivia doubted that she would have even been aware if the rain were soaking her because her mind was so far away. It was trapped in the forensics lab, her memory of that day playing relentlessly in her mind.

_SVU hero is killed in the line of duty. _

She pointed at her partner as Elliot's jaw tightened and his eyes shot up to hers, silently screaming 'What are you doing? Are you crazy?' Ignoring the unspoken questions, she went on, unraveling the plan to Dale Stuckey.

_It's perfect._

She had told him. Except it wasn't perfect. The scene played on before her eyes.

_You think that you're the only one whose life is hell because of this prick?_

Walking backwards, she moved closer to Elliot. To the man that had been beside her nearly every day for the past ten years. The man she loved more than anyone in her life. More than life itself. And she hit him. Hard.

_Smack!_

His head rolled violently to the right.

_Liv do this._

_Smack!_

And then to the left.

_Liv do that._

_Smack!_

And back to the right.

Her right hand stung from the contact with Elliot's cheek and jaw. The surprise and question in his eyes cut her to the quick. Realizing he had not quite caught on to what she was doing, she hated that they seemed to have lost so much of the previous connection they had always had. Distance had a way of eroding things like that, and there had been plenty of distance between them the last few years.

'_SVU Hero is Killed in the Line of Duty',_ the headline read.

Every where she turned she saw it. A constant reminder of her partner. Of what she had done.

_I'm sick of it._

She reached to remove the duct tape from his mouth, snatching it roughly away; pulling skin with it she was sure.

_I'm sick of it._

_I want to hear him scream._

_Don't you touch me again. _Elliot dared her, and she didn't like it.

_Somebody say you could talk?_

_Both of you shut up! _Dale was nervous, jumpy, not positive he believed this act being played out before him.

Elliot's eyes burn into hers and she sees the mixture of hurt, confusion and even a trace of anger. He has caught onto her act, yet his eyes tell her he is not in every respect convinced it is all merely an act. She knows he thinks that on some level she is enjoying this; she is doing what she wanted to do for years. This situation is just one fantastic excuse.

_Hit him again. _

When Dale demands this, Olivia only hopes that Elliot knows this is a desperate ploy to save him. Her. Them. She knows her face must be a study in anguish and despair. He's bleeding. She does not want to hit him again. Yet, a deep anger she was not even aware she harbored against him has risen within her. He is hurt. Physically. Emotionally. His blue eyes stare intently at her, the light gone from them, suddenly cold.

_Don't do it, bitch._

And something within her snaps at his voice calling her that degrading name.

_Smack!_

Putting her whole body into it, she hits him again, the anger coursing through her almost like a drug. Like a perverted healing of her psyche to unleash this physical abuse upon the man that has brought her so much mental and emotional torment over the last several years.

_Don't you hit me again. _Elliot bellows, his face now ablaze with fury.

Leaning down to him, she grabbed him around the neck with her right hand.

_No more orders out of you, pal! _She pushed away from him, choking him a little.

_I don't believe you, I don't believe you. _Dale held the gun on the two of them.

_If you knew half of what this prick has done…somebody needs to take him out._

And before she could say anything else, do anything to stop him, Dale Stuckey leveled the gun in his hand at Elliot and fired three times. Olivia is in shock and can do nothing but stare at Elliot as his body jumps with each impact, the final one causing him to go off balance and crash to the floor still bound to the chair. Blood is everywhere. Everywhere.

At this she screams his name, 'Elliot! Elliot!"

Breathing has suddenly become nearly impossible and she realizes her chest is heaving with the attempt to pull in sufficient air. She is feeling faint but forces herself to ward off the impending darkness.

"Olivia?" the somber, concerned voice of Captain Cragen whispered in her ear. "You okay?"

Pulled back to the present, she glances into his soft, sad, puppy-dog eyes as she nods slightly, though she is as far from okay as she thinks she has ever been. Turning her attention back to the funeral service, she noticed the rain is letting up a little. The priest is praying, first in Latin and then translating it into English.

"Réquiem æternam dona ei, Dómine. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord. Et lux perpétua lúceat ei. And let perpetual light shine upon him. Requiéscat in pace. May he rest in peace. Amen," the priest makes the sign of the cross as do many others in the gathering as the casket is lowered into the ground to its final resting place.

It is gut wrenching. It is heart breaking. Silently she says goodbye to her friend.

Emotions overwhelming her, tears find their release from her eyes. She cannot live without him. She has always known this. But now she can finally admit it. Only he is not here to hear the words she is ready to tell him. Words it has taken nearly ten years to be ready to confess.

Someone, she thinks it was his mother, threw the first handful of dirt upon the coffin. Then the rest of the mourners begin to file by dropping flowers on the cherry stained wooden top of the casket and Olivia numbly follows and watches as the red rose she tosses lands almost dead center of the growing pile. She had taken a cab from her apartment, not trusting herself to drive with her emotions in such tatters. Cragen offers to take her to the precinct and leads her toward his car.

"Thanks, Captain. But if you don't mind…I…I think I'm gonna take the rest of the day off," her eyes plead with him to understand.

There simply was no way she could go back to work and sit across from Elliot's empty desk. Not today. Not until she had more time to process everything that had happened this week. She already missed him too much.

Cragen's forehead wrinkled as he took in her expression, "Olivia, this is not your fault."

"Isn't it?" she turned and walked away into the steady rain.

If only she had called for backup before going to the lab things might have turned out so differently, she thought again.

Watching her disappearing figure, Cragen repositioned the umbrella and jammed one hand into his trouser pocket as he sighed and slowly shook his head.

**Benson Residence - Friday, June 5 – 8:42 p.m.**

Stretching, she leaned over and shut off the alarm. Another morning. Another day to seek justice for a new batch of victims in New York City. She lay there for a moment, waking up slowly. Finally, she rolled from the bed to make her way to the bathroom and her morning shower. Barely fifteen minutes later she was in the kitchen pouring steaming water over the teabag in her cup. She went to the door and opened it to retrieve the morning paper. Tossing it on the table, she went to prepare her tea. Two sugars, one milk. She stirred it and then took it to the table to sit down.

Before even making it all the way to the table, the headline from the opened newspaper jumped out at her in a nearly audible scream, the words slapping at her mind.

'_SVU Hero is Killed in the Line of Duty'. _Pictures of Elliot were emblazoned to the right of the article. One from the academy; a more recent one of him in suit and tie; and one of him sitting bound to a chair, duct tape over his lips, blood pouring from slashes across his shirt and abdomen, his eyes wide with disbelief. The teacup slid from her hand, shattering into a million pieces as the hot liquid scalded her bare feet and legs. She had said she wanted to hear him scream yet it was hers that reverberated throughout the apartment.

Waking with a start, her heart beating so hard it made her nauseous, she quickly sat up thinking she may have to make a run for the bathroom. She thinks she must have really screamed. The pounding on the door made her heart skip another of its already erratic beats and it's beginning to dawn on her that she had been dreaming. No. No, she had just had _the_ nightmare again. The seventh or eighth time since Tuesday night. The _same_ one.

She glanced toward the kitchen and saw the table bare, her floor clean. No newspaper with the sickening headline shouting out to her; no sign of the shattered teacup and spilt liquid. Shakily, she dragged herself to the door, not bothering to look out, because she already knew who was on the other side of it. He was calling out her name in a tightly contained voice attempting to keep the volume down. Even so she detected the fear and the worry in its pitch.

"Liv?" he called out. "Are you okay? Open the door. Please," he begged as the pounding continued, and he called her name again, now frantic and bordering on panic. "Olivia!"

It took her longer than normal to unlatch the four locks with her trembling fingers, but finally she opened the door and found herself staring into extremely troubled blue eyes. He must have come straight from work because he was still in his gray suit and blue checkered shirt, his tie was undone, hanging limply around his neck.

She was wearing a hole-filled 'I love NY' tee shirt with a big red heart in the middle, a pair of faded black running shorts and she was barefoot. Tousled hair and smudged makeup told him she had just woken up. It wasn't that late and he wondered why she had been asleep so early. Not waiting for an invitation to enter, he took her gently by the arm pushing his way in and closing the door behind them.

The way she was staring at him reminded him of the victims he had seen in shock. It was like she did not really see him. She was shaking like a leaf and small beads of perspiration dotted her pale face. He took her by the shoulders and lightly shook her, hoping to get some kind of reaction from her.

"Olivia? Liv? I heard you screaming. What's wrong?"

Her eyes remained blank. It was like she gone; like there was no one inside. Then he noticed her breathing was extremely rapid and shallow. He did not know what to do. He was about to start treating her as a true shock victim when she suddenly grabbed his shirt in her fists and pulled his face to hers, her voice a low, throaty rasp.

"Y-y-you're okay? You're not...d- dead? You…you didn't…you didn't die? But I saw you…you were bleeding…and it was in the paper. Your pictures. And…and…and there was blood everywhere…and the knife…it was…you looked at me…"

The words came so fast he was barely able to make sense of any of them.

"Liv…" he tried to stop her.

Newspaper? His picture was in a newspaper? Obviously she was quite confused about the facts of what had happened Tuesday in the forensics lab. Confusion was yet another sign of shock and he wondered again what to do.

"…your shirt was slashed…your chest covered in blood…" she released his shirt only to trail her hands over his chest.

"Do you hurt? Where were you cut? It was right here…I saw it…" she pressed her hands softly upon his stomach and chest. She had been at the hospital when the wounds were cleaned and dressed. "I know you were...I-I saw it…the blood…so much blood…and then he shot you…you fell…there was more blood…where…where did he shoot you…" her hands quickly moved across the wounded areas slashed by the knife.

To Elliot, they felt like flames of fire and he reached up to cover them with his own and pulled them away as confusion began to flood his own mind.

"Liv…I wasn't shot…I'm okay," he tried to make her listen. He was worried about her now.

"…and your eyes…they told me that…and I saw you…on the floor…your eyes were open…I…hit you. W-why? Why did I h-hit you…your eyes they…talked to me…the knife in your chest…you were dead…but you…you…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, El. I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to let him you either, Elliot."

She began shaking uncontrollably and he saw she was on the verge of tears. He had to do something to snap her out of this. He knew she was attempting to find a way to take the blame for what happened. And for whatever she thought happened as well.

"Olivia! It was Ryan that died. Not me. You didn't have anything to do with any of it. You hear me?"

Her eyes widened as terror filled her face. The images from her nightmare and from reality slowly began to separate. Slowly began to take on the truth of what had really happened.

"Ryan? Ryan…" she whispered as she collapsed.

Elliot caught her in his arms and they fell back against the door. She was dead weight and he knew this could not be good. He held her for a long moment, stroking her hair and whispering to her.

"Liv, it's okay. You're okay. Everything is going to be all right," he closed his eyes and wished he knew how to make it all go away.

"I…I'm…gonna throw up," she mumbled against him.

He grabbed her, half dragging and half pushing her to the bathroom. She managed to fall to her knees in front of the toilet just in time. When she finished, she leaned back and sat with her knees bent, but her hands hanging onto the edges of the seat. Though still shaky, she felt much better now.

Elliot gave her a cup of water to rinse her mouth then dampened a cloth with cold water and knelt beside her to wipe her face. Finally, she reached up and covered his hand with hers and took the cloth from him.

"Thank you," she whispered as their eyes locked.

He simply nodded.

They stayed like this for several minutes before she spoke again.

"Would…would you mind if I got a…a quick shower?" she looked at him and then away quickly.

"Uh…no…of course, not. I"ll just…let myself out…and uh…check on you tomorrow…" he trailed off as he stood and extended his hand to her.

He didn't want to leave her at all, but especially not in the state she was in right now. He had come here to see how she was and because he wanted to talk to her, but apparently talking would have to wait.

"No!" she said much too quickly and forcefully.

His eyes met hers again and she let him pull her to a standing position. "I mean…I don't want you to go…I just…I'll only be a minute. Please wait," she bit her lower lip.

Taken aback by her request, he raised his eyebrows, "You sure?"

"Yea…make yourself at home. I think there's a can or two of soda in the frig," she smiled.

Her smile warmed his insides and it was the first time he relaxed since arriving at her door and hearing her screams.

"Okay," he smiled back and left her to her shower.

The ten minutes it took for her to emerge, freshly showered and changed into a lime green tank and plaid lime green, orange and blue pajama pants, had seemed like an eternity to Elliot.

Smiling shyly at him, she walked past him to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him. He leaned over and took an unopened bottle of water on the lamp table and handed it to her.

She took it, their hands touching for the briefest second, emotions crashing around them. She pulled away and twisted the lid off. He watched her intently as she took a swallow, wiped at her mouth and then took another longer swallow.

Running her hands through her damp hair, she turned toward him. "Why are you here?"

Her hair was so curly when it was wet. He knew it had soft waves when it was longer, but he never knew it was this curly naturally. Shifting in his seat to face her, he stretched his left arm across the back of the couch and partially resting his left leg on the seat as he stretched it out as well.

"You weren't at the house this afternoon when Fin and I got back from the call we got this morning. Captain said you took the day off…you didn't answer my calls or texts…I was worried about you."

He and Fin had been unable to attend Ryan O'Halloran's funeral this morning because of a ten year old girl who had been raped and left for dead in Washington Square Park. He knew finding Ryan like she did, had been exceptionally hard on her.

"I'm fine, Elliot," she sighed looking away.

"You're _not_ fine, Olivia," he argued.

"Elliot…"

"No. I get to your door and all I hear are your screams and I can't get you to come to the door. I was this close," he held his right index finger and thumb millimeters apart, "this close to breaking the door down."

"You have a _key_," she smirked, trying to lighten things.

"Yea, but not to the _chain_ locks you have on that door," he jerked his thumb toward the foyer. "When did you put the extra locks on there anyway?"

"I don't know…sometime in the last year or so," she told him. Right after Sealview, she wished she could say. Right after Lowell Harris became a part of my every waking and sleeping moments.

"Well, the fact is, you were screaming and having a nightmare and that tells me you are _not_ fine, Liv," he pointed out.

Shrugging, she took another swallow of the water and then proceeded to twist the lid on and off.

"Liv…talk to me. What was the dream?"

She looked at him only briefly before her eyes fell away as she shook her head.

He sat up and scooted closer to her, his left knee lightly bumping her right, "Liv, please?"

Biting her lower lip, she chewed on it for several minutes. "I…since Tuesday night…I keep…uh…having this dr…this nightmare that Stuckey shot you. That when I…told him…told him that someone…needed to…to take you out…he did. Right then . He turned and shot you and I…I couldn't do anything to stop him and it was my fault…and I don't know why I even said that…why I…I risked him really doing that, Elliot. What if…oh, God!" she buried her face in her hands, the bottle of water falling to the couch between them.

"But he didn't. He didn't shoot me. I'm alive, Olivia. Everything is okay," he found his hand gently kneading her neck as her sobs continued.

"Ryan's dead…and you…you…nothing is okay," she sniffled.

"Yea…sorry. He was a good guy," Elliot could have kicked himself for saying everything was okay.

"He was…and a really good friend, too," she wiped her face with her hands and Elliot let his hand fall from her neck.

"You were friends?"

She nodded, "I'm going to miss him so much. Every other Monday we alternated fixing dinner for each other."

Elliot frowned at this revelation. He had not known they were friends. "Really? You don't even cook."

"Yea, well, mostly I got take out to start with and Ryan cooked but he taught me some easy recipes and I can do okay now," she laughed. "He told me that you said I had cobwebs on my pots and pans."

Strangely enough, Elliot remembered telling him that. "I was just repeating what you said during the Etheridge case," he said defensively.

"It's okay. I ran into Ry at a deli one night and he brought it up. We talked about how sick we got of eating out all the time and he suggested we try the cooking thing," she was smiling now and for that Elliot was glad, if not just a bit jealous.

He never knew she got sick of eating out all the time. And Ry? She had called him Ry. She seemed to have nicknames for all the guys she liked, he thought to himself. Brian Cassidy was Bri, Ryan was Ry. And she called him El…sometimes. Not as much as she used to. He wanted to be 'El' again, not Elliot. He wanted them to be friends again. At the very least.

Silence fell over them and they sat quietly side by side. His mind was racing and he finally decided to ask the things that had been on his mind since Tuesday.

"Liv?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Promise not to get mad?"

Her eyes flew up to meet his and narrowed before she replied, "I don't know? You gonna promise not to say something to _make_ me mad?"

He laughed and then looked down at his hands spread out on his thighs. "When you were slapping me…it almost seemed like you…uh…you really were getting off on it…"

"Elliot…" she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"I'm serious, Liv. I think you really are mad at me about something and I don't know what. And I think hitting me like that let you blow off some steam," he stared at her waiting for her response.

How could she tell him what she really wanted to? _Should_ she tell him all the things that have piled up over the years? Things that, in and of themselves , or if it had involved anyone other than Elliot, would have been inconsequential. It's been ten years, she said to herself. Ten years and she could have lost him Tuesday. It could very well have been not only Ryan that died, but Elliot. There could have been two funerals. And in light of the gravity of this realization, she decided to go for broke. Things between them certainly could not get much worse.

"You really want the truth, Elliot?"

"Yea, I do."

"Okay. Okay. The truth is…you're right. I did derive some satisfaction from hitting you," she told him. There she said what she had figured out days ago. "Maybe even a lot of satisfaction."

Raising an eyebrow, he was not surprised he was right, but very surprised she so readily admitted it. "But…why? I don't understand. I mean, look…I know things have been…well, different between us lately, but was I…am I really that bad to you?

"Lately?" she scoffed. "Lately? You and I haven't been on the same page since you…since you…" she shook her head and leaned back on the couch, her eyes shut tight.

"Since I what?"

Changing her mind, she started thinking. No way was she going there with him. She had to get out of this situation. Jumping to her feet, she turned to him, "Elliot, it's late and it's been a rough day and…"

Running. Doing what she did best. Not this time. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down beside him, "It's only 9:15 and I want to know what happened. What changed between us? I don't like it. Please, Liv. Tell me."

He didn't like it? There was no way to resist those pleading blue eyes and she found herself taking a deep breath and then releasing it in a long sigh.

"Since you… you told me Kathy was pregnant," she whispered as she looked down at her hands playing with the fringe of a throw pillow.

To say he was stunned would be the understatement of all time. He was not even certain he heard her right. _'Since you told me Kathy was pregnant.'_

He ran the gamut of emotions: frowning with perplexity, eyebrows raised in astonishment, eyes looking everywhere but at her, his heart skipping a beat…several beats, breathing nearly non-existent. What did that statement mean? What was she telling him? Was there more to it than he realized? Or did she just mean that things changed when Kathy dropped that bombshell?

Several times he started to say something but the words seem to stick in his throat and he was finding it difficult to breathe let alone talk and breathe at the same time. He became aware that she was now watching him so he slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers.

"Are you going to say anything?" she whispered as she tried to hold his gaze.

"I don't…I don't know what to say…I mean…I'm not real sure what you are telling me," his eyes searched hers and he knew. She did not have to explain – he knew.

Looking away, she explained anyway, "Everything changed between us. We had just gone through the Sennett case…and I thought…it seemed like we were…things changed. You even said it…and I thought we were on track to at least be friends again. But then when you went back home it was like you didn't have room in your life for me anymore…and I…just…I don't know," she shook her head.

He nodded, smiling sadly, "I know. I'm sorry. I just couldn't deal with Kathy and you at the same time. And…I'm sorry, but it was easier to let you go," his voice was low, the words thick with emotion. "I'm sorry."

She stared straight ahead without responding to this statement. She wanted to ask what he meant by not being able to deal with her and Kathy…and why she was the one he chose to let go. Of course, he would let her go. Kathy had been part of his life for over twenty years as the mother of his children, his wife.

He reached out and touched her arm, "She was so jealous of you…and we fought all the time. Liv, you gotta believe me. I didn't want to let you go."

Something about the way he said the words, something about the timbre of voice – how it lowered, made her know that he meant what he said.

Nodding as her lips curled into a small smile, she covered his hand with hers, "I know."

"She told me she talked to you…asked you to talk me into signing the divorce papers," he looked up at her.

Olivia looked at him and then let her eyes drop.

"You never said anything," he asked as though it were a question.

"It wasn't my place. It had to be your decision, Elliot."

"And then I went and screwed everything up," he scoffed. "Literally and figuratively."

Their eyes locked and suddenly it was as though the last several years were erased and the connection, the bond between them was back in place. The silent words were exchanged between them with only their eyes talking. And each understood what the other was saying. Each understood what they had lost. The opportunity for more. Gone.

"There's been so much between us, El. So much. Good and bad," she spoke softly, he nodding in agreement.

"I'd like to think that this is a start on getting things out in the open again. Getting our friendship back. Olivia, I _want_ to be your friend again," he covered her hand with his.

"Well, as long as we determine to be honest with each other and don't get sidetracked chasing zebras, I think we can find that friendship again. I'd really like that, El," she smiled up at him.

"And I'd like that, too, Liv,' he bumped her shoulder and they both began to laugh.

The laughter fell away and the silence that followed was like those of the past, comfortable, sustaining, a reprieve from the chaos of life, just two friends simply being together.

After nearly ten minutes Elliot spoke, "Liv, something's bothered me ever since all that mess with Stuckey."

"What?"

"Why…why did you kiss him? You could have disarmed him somehow. And why did you want me to watch?"

Instantly her face colored and he was sorry he brought it up. Well, not that sorry, because he really wanted to know. If she knew how nauseated he was watching her kiss that twerpy kid, she would probably laugh at him. Call him insecure or whatever. Her kissing Dale was the one thing from that scene he could not get out of his mind.

She wondered how she would explain this to him because she knew it was a matter of time before he asked. She took a deep breath, turned to face him and prayed he would believe what she was about to say.

"I was winging it, Elliot. I was scared to death. I knew you were hurt but I didn't know how bad. Bound to the chair, there wasn't much you could do to help…and I was afraid that if I tried to overpower him, I might fail and then he would kill us both or worse," she closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

"Worse?"

"Yea…worse. He could have killed you and made me watch," she bit her lower lip as she looked his way. "The playing on his emotions, telling him we were connected, kissing him…it just seemed like the thing to do…even though it _was_ nauseating," she told him.

"Try being in my shoes," he mumbled.

"What?"

"I just couldn't believe you did it…he's a kid," Elliot ran his hand over his head. A kid. A kid that knew what it was like to be kissed by Olivia Benson. A kid that had gotten to do what he had dreamed of doing for years. "An annoying, irritating, kid. I just can't believe you did it."

"You're jealous," she was half-way teasing, but she partly meant it, because he _did_ sound jealous.

He snorted, "I am not jealous of that skinny, idiotic jerk of a kid!"

Olivia leaned back, her hand resting at her mouth and smiled as she gazed at Elliot.

"What?" he snapped.

"After ten years, you still don't know do you?" she asked incredulous at him.

"Don't know what?" anger was creeping into his voice.

Picking up the water bottle, she stood up and looked down at him, "That I would do anything, _anything_ it took to make you happy, to keep you safe, to spare your life."

Elliot was speechless. Then as she turned and walked out of the living room he called out, "Yea? Well, I'd _still_ give you kidney!"

"Not if I gaive you mine first," she smirked over her shoulder.

~ ~ ~eoeoeoeoeo ~ ~ ~


End file.
